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THE   SLEEPING-CAR  AND 
OTHER  FARCES. 


THE 

SLEEPING-CAR 


AND 


OTHER  FARCES 


BY 

WILLIAM  D.    HOWELLS 


BOSTON  AND   NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND   COMPANY 


1889 


COPYRIGHT,  1882,  1883,  AND  1884,  BY  HARPER  &  BROTHERS; 

AND 

1876,   1883,    1884,   1885,   AND   1889,  BY  W.  D.   HOWELLS. 


A II  rights  reserved. 


?£> 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

THE  PARLOR-CAR 11 

THE  SLEEPING-CAR 51 

THE  REGISTER 101 

THE  ELEVATOR  .  161 


THE    PARLOR-CAR. 

FARCE. 


THE  PARLOR-CAR 


SCENE  :  A  Parlor-Car  on  the  New  York  Central 
Railroad.  It  is  late  afternoon  in  the  early 
autumn,  with  a  cloudy  sunset  threatening  rain. 
The  car  is  unoccupied  save  by  a  gentleman,  who 
sits  fronting  one  of  the  windows,  with  his  feet 
in  another  chair;  a  newspaper  lies  across  his 
lap ;  his  hat  is  drawn  down  over  his  eyes,  and 
he  is  apparently  asleep.  The  rear  door  of  the 
car  opens,  and  the  conductor  enters  with  a 
young  lady,  heavily  veiled,  the  porter  coming 
after  with  her  wraps  and  travelling-bags.  The 
lady's  air  is  of  mingled  anxiety  and  despera- 
tion, with  a  certain  fierceness  of  movement. 
She  casts  a  careless  glance  over  the  empty 
chairs. 

Conductor:  "Here's  your  ticket,  madam.     You 
can  have  any  of  the  places  you  like  here,  or,"  — 
glancing  at  the  unconscious  gentleman,  and  then 
11 


12  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

at  the  young  lady,  —  "if  you  prefer,  you  can  go 
and  take  that  seat  in  the  forward  car." 

Miss  Lucy  Galbraith :  "Oh,  I  can't  ride  back- 
wards. I'll  stay  here,  please.  Thank  you."  The 
porter  places  her  things  in  a  chair  by  a  window, 
across  the  car  from  the  sleeping  gentleman,  and 
she  throws  herself  wearily  into  the  next  seat, 
wheels  round  in  it,  and  lifting  her  veil  gazes 
absently  out  at  the  landscape.  Her  face,  which 
is  very  pretty,  with  a  low  forehead  shadowed  by 
thick  blond  hair,  shows  the  traces  of  tears.  She 
makes  search  in  her  pocket  for  her  handkerchief, 
which  she  presses  to  her  eyes.  The  conductor, 
lingering  a  moment,  goes  out. 

Porter :  "  I'll  be  right  here,  at  de  end  of  de  cah, 
if  you  should  happen  to  want  anything,  miss,"  — 
making  a  feint  of  arranging  the  shawls  and 
satchels.  "  Should  you  like  some  dese  things 
hung  up?  Well,  dey'll  be  jus'  as  well  in  de 
chair.  We's  pretty  late  dis  afternoon;  more'n 
four  hours  behin'  time.  Ought  to  been  into 
Albany  'fore  dis.  Freight  train  off  de  track  jus' 
dis  side  o'  Eochester,  an'  had  to  wait.  Was  you 
going  to  stop  at  Schenectady,  miss  ?  " 

Miss  Galbmith,  absently  :  "  At  Schenectady  ?  " 
After  a  pause,  "  Yes." 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  13 

Porter :  "  Well,  that's  de  next  station,  and 
den  de  cans  don't  stop  ag'in  till  dey  git  to 
Albany.  Anything  else  I  can  do  for  you  now, 
miss  ?  " 

Miss  Galbraith :  "  No,  no,  thank  you,  nothing." 
The  Porter  hesitates,  takes  off  his  cap,  and 
scratches  his  head  with  a  murmur  of  embarrass- 
ment. Miss  Galbraith  looks  up  at  him  inquiringly 
and  then  suddenly  takes  out  her  porte-monnaie, 
and  fees  him. 

Porter :  "  Thank  you,  miss,  thank  you.  If  you 
want  anything  at  all,  miss,  I'm  right  dere  at  de 
end  of  de  cah."  He  goes  out  by  the  narrow 
passage-way  beside  the  smaller  enclosed  parlor. 
Miss  Galbraith  looks  askance  at  the  sleeping  gen- 
tleman, and  then,  rising,  goes  to  the  large  mirror, 
to  pin  her  veil,  which  has  become  loosened  from 
her  hat.  She  gives  a  little  start  at  sight  of  the 
gentleman  in  the  mirror,  but  arranges  her  head- 
gear, and  returning  to  her  place  looks  out  of  the 
window  again.  After  a  little  while  she  moves 
about  uneasily  in  her  chair,  then  leans  forward, 
and  tries  to  raise  her  window ;  she  lifts  it  partly 
up,  when  the  catch  slips  from  her  fingers,  and  the 
window  falls  shut  again  with  a  crash. 


14  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

Miss  Galbraith :  "  Oh,  dear,  how  provoking !  I 
suppose  I  must  call  the  porter."  She  rises  from 
her  seat,  but  on  attempting  to  move  away  she  finds 
that  the  skirt  of  her  polonaise  has  been  caught  in 
the  falling  window.  She  pulls  at  it,  and  then 
tries  to  lift  the  window  again,  but  the  cloth  has 
wedged  it  in,  and  she  cannot  stir  it.  "Well,  I 
certainly  think  this  is  beyond  endurance  !  Porter ! 
Ah,  —  Porter!  Oh,  he'll  never  hear  me  in  the 
racket  that  these  wheels  are  making !  I  wish 
they'd  stop,  —  I "  —  The  gentleman  stirs  in  his 
chair,  lifts  his  head,  listens,  takes  his  feet  down 
from  the  other  seat,  rises  abruptly,  and  comes  to 
Miss  Galbraith's  side. 

Mr.  Allen  Richards:  "Will  you  allow  me  to 
open  the  window  for  you  ?  "  Starting  back,  "  Miss 
Galbraith!" 

Miss  Galbraith :  "  Al  —  Mr.  Eichards  !  "  There 
is  a  silence  for  some  moments,  in  which  they 
remain  looking  at  each  other ;  then,  — 

Mr.  Eichards  :  "  Lucy  "  - 

Miss  Galbraith:  "I  forbid  you  to  address  me 
in  that  way,  Mr.  Eichards." 

Mr.  Richards :  "  Why,  you  were  just  going  to 
c-all  me  Allen!" 


AXD   OTHER   FARCES.  15 

Miss  Galbraith:  "That  was  an  accident,  yon 
know  very  well,  —  an  impulse  "  — 

Mr.  Richards :  "  Well,  so  is  this." 

Miss  Galbraith:  "Of  which  yon  ought  to  be 
ashamed  to  take  advantage.  I  wonder  at  your 
presumption  in  speaking  to  me  at  all.  It's  quite 
idle,  I  can  assure  you.  Everything  is  at  an  end 
between  us.  It  seems  that  I  bore  with  you  too 
long;  but  I'm  thankful  that  I  had  the  spirit  to 
act  at  last,  and  to  act  in  time.  And  now  that 
chance  has  thrown  us  together,  I  trust  that  you 
will  not  force  your  conversation  upon  me.  No 
gentleman  would,  and  I  have  always  given  you 
credit  for  thinking  yourself  a  gentleman.  I  re- 
quest that  you  will  not  speak  to  me." 

Mr.  Richards  :  "  You've  spoken  ten  words  to  me 
for  every  one  of  mine  to  you.  But  I  won't  annoy 
you.  I  can't  believe  it,  Lucy ;  I  can  not  believe  it. 
It  seems  like  some  rascally  dream,  and  if  I  had 
had  any  sleep  since  it  happened,  I  should  think  I 
had  dreamed  it." 

Miss  Galbraith :  "  Oh  !  You  were  sleeping 
soundly  enough  when  I  got  into  the  car  !  " 

Mr.  Richards :  "  I  own  it ;  I  was  perfectly  used 
up,  and  I  had  dropped  off." 


16  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

Miss  Galbraith,  scornfully :  "  Then  perhaps  you 
have  dreamed  it." 

Mr.  Richards :  "  I'll  think  so  till  you  tell  me 
again  that  our  engagement  is  broken;  that  the 
faithful  love  of  years  is  to  go  for  nothing;  that 
you  dismiss  me  with  cruel  insult,  without  one 
word  of  explanation,  without  a  word  of  intelligible 
accusation,  even.  It's  too  much !  I've  been  think- 
ing it  all  over  and  over,  and  I  can't  make  head  or 
tail  of  it.  I  meant  to  see  you  again  as  soon  as  we 
got  to  town,  and  implore  you  to  hear  me.  Come, 
it's  a  mighty  serious  matter,  Lucy.  I'm  not  a  man 
to  put  on  heroics  and  that ;  but  /  believe  it'll  play 
the  very  deuce  with  me,  Lucy,  —  that  is  to  say, 
Miss  Galbraith,  —  I  do  indeed.  It'll  give  me  a  low 
opinion  of  woman." 

Miss  Galbraith,  averting  her  face :  "  Oh,  a  very 
high  opinion  of  woman  you  have  had  !  " 

Mr.  Richards,  with  sentiment  :  "  Well,  there 
was  one  woman  whom  I  thought  a  perfect  angel." 

Miss  Galbraith :  "  Indeed !  May  I  ask  her 
name  ?  " 

Mr.  Richards,  with  a  forlorn  smile.  "  I  shall  be 
obliged  to  describe  her  somewhat  formally  as  — 
Miss  Galbraith." 


AND   OTHER   FAECES.  17 

Miss  Galbraith  :  "  Mr.  Bichards  !  " 

Mr.  Richards  :  "  Why,  you've  just  forbidden  me 
to  say  Lucy  !  You  must  tell  me,  dearest,  what  I 
have  done  to  offend  you.  The  worst  criminals  are 
not  condemned  unheard,  and  I've  always  thought 
you  were  merciful  if  not  just.  And  now  I  only 
ask  you  to  be  just." 

Miss  Galbraith,  looking  out  of  the  window : 
"You  know  very  well  what  you've  done.  You 
can't  expect  me  to  humiliate  myself  by  putting 
your  offence  into  words." 

Mr.  Richards :  "  Upon  my  soul,  I  don't  know 
what  you  mean !  I  don't  know  what  I've  done. 
When  you  came  at  me,  last  night,  with  my  ring 
and  presents  and  other  little  traps,  you  might  have 
knocked  me  down  with  the  lightest  of  the  lot.  I 
was  perfectly  dazed;  I  couldn't  say  anything  be- 
fore you  were  off,  and  all  I  could  do  was  to  hope 
that  you'd  be  more  like  yourself  in  the  morning. 
And  in  the  morning,  when  I  came  round  to  Mrs. 
Philips's,  I  found  you  were  gone,  and  I  came  after 
you  by  the  next  train." 

Miss  Galbraith  :  "  Mr.  Eichards,  your  personal 
history  for  the  last  twenty-four  hours  is  a  matter 
of  perfect  indifference  to  me,  as  it  shall  be  for  the 


18  THE  SLEEPING-CAR 

next  twenty-four  hundred  years.  I  see  that  you 
are  resolved  to  annoy  me,  and  since  you  will  not 
leave  the  car,  /  must  do  so."  She  rises  haughtily 
from  her  seat,  but  the  imprisoned  skirt  of  her 
polonaise  twitches  her  abruptly  back  into  her 
chair.  She  bursts  into  tears.  "  Oh,  what  shall  I 
do?" 

Mr.  Richards,  dryly  :  "  You  shall  do  whatever 
you  like,  Miss  Galbraith,  when  I've  set  you  free ; 
for  I  see  your  dress  is  caught  in  the  window.  When 
it's  once  out,  I'll  shut  the  window,  and  you  can 
call  the  porter  to  raise  it."  He  leans  forward  over 
her  chair,  and  while  she  shrinks  back  the  length 
of  her  tether,  he  tugs  at  the  window-fastening. 
"  I  can't  get  at  it.  Would  you  be  so  good  as  to 
stand  up,  —  all  you  can  ?  "  Miss  Galbraith  stands 
up,  droopingly,  and  Mr.  Richards  makes  a  move- 
ment towards  her,  and  then  falls  back.  "  No,  that 
won't  do.  Please  sit  down  again."  He  goes 
round  her  chair  and  tries  to  get  at  the  window 
from  that  side.  "  I  can't  get  any  purchase  on  it. 
Why  don't  you  cut  out  that  piece  ?  "  Miss  Gal- 
braith stares  at  him  in  dumb  amazement.  "Well, 
I  don't  see  what  we're  to  do.  I'll  go  and  get  the 
porter."  He  goes  to  the  end  of  the  car,  and 


AND   OTHER   FAECES.  19 

returns.  "  I  can't  find  the  porter,  —  he  must  be  in 
one  of  the  other  cars.  But "  —  brightening  with 
the  fortunate  conception  —  "  I've  just  thought  of 
something.  Will  it  unbutton  ?  " 

Miss  Galbraith  :  "  Unbutton  ?  " 

Mr.  Richards  :  "  Yes  ;  this  garment  of  yours." 

Miss  Galbraith  :  "  My  polonaise  ?  "  Inquir- 
ingly, "Yes." 

Mr.  Richards :  "  Well,  then,  it's  a  very  simple 
matter.  If  you  will  just  take  it  off  I  can 
easily  "  — 

Miss  Galbraith,  faintly  :  "  I  can't.  A  polonaise 
isn't  like  an  overcoat  "  — 

Mr.  Richards,  with  dismay  :  "  Oh  !  Well, 
then "  —  He  remains  thinking  a  moment  in 
hopeless  perplexity. 

Miss  Galbraith,  with  polite  ceremony :  "  The 
porter  will  be  back  soon.  Don't  trouble  yourself 
any  further  about  it,  please.  I  shall  do  very 
well." 

Mr.  Richards,  without  heeding  her :  "  If  you 
could  kneel  on  that  foot-cushion,  and  face  the 
window  "  — 

Miss  Galbraith,  kneeling  promptly  :  "  So  ?  " 

Mr.  Richards :  "  Yes,  and  now  "  —  kneeling  be- 


20  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

side  her  —  "  if  you'll  allow  me  to  —  to  get  at  the 
window-catch,"  —  he  stretches  both  arms  forward ; 
she  shrinks  from  his  right  into  his  left,  and 
then  back  again,  —  "and  pull,  while  I  raise  the 
window  "  — 

Miss  Galbraith:  "Yes,  yes;  but  do  hurry, 
please.  If  any  one  saw  us,  I  don't  know  what 
they  would  think.  It's  perfectly  ridiculous  ! "  — 
pulling.  "  It's  caught  in  the  corner  of  the  window, 
between  the  frame  and  the  sash,  and  it  won't 
come !  Is  my  hair  troubling  you  ?  Is  it  in  your 
eyes  ?  " 

Mr.  Richards :  "  It's  in  my  eyes,  but  it  isn't 
troubling  me.  Am  I  inconveniencing  you  ?  " 

Miss  Galbraith  :  "Oh,  not  at  all." 

Mr.  Richards :  "  Well,  now  then,  pull  hard ! " 
He  lifts  the  window  with  a  great  effort ;  the 
polonaise  comes  free  with  a  start,  and  she  strikes 
violently  against  him.  In  supporting  the  shock 
he  cannot  forbear  catching  her  for  an  instant  to 
his  heart.  She  frees  herself,  and  starts  indig- 
nantly to  her  feet. 

Miss  Galbraith :  "  Oh,  what  a  cowardly  —  subter- 
fuge ! " 

Mr.   Richards :   "  Cowardly  ?      You've   no   idea 


AND   OTHER   FAECES.  21 

\ 

how  much  courage  it  took.'7  Miss  Galbraith  puts 
her  handkerchief  to  her  face,  and  sobs.  "  Oh,  don't 
cry  !  Bless  my  heart,  —  I'm  sorry  I  did  it !  But 
you  know  how  dearly  I  love  you,  Lucy,  though  I 
do  think  you've  been  cruelly  unjust.  I  told  you 
I  never  should  love  any  one  else,  and  I  never  shall. 
I  couldn't  help  it ;  upon  my  soul,  I  couldn't. 
Nobody  could.  Don't  let  it  vex  you,  my  "  —  He 
approaches  her. 

Miss  Galbraith :  "  Please  not  touch  me,  sir ! 
You  have  no  longer  any  right  whatever  to  do 
so." 

Mr.  Richards :  "  You  misinterpret  a  very  in- 
offensive gesture.  I  have  no  idea  of  touching  you, 
but  I  hope  I  may  be  allowed,  as  a  special  favor, 
to  —  pick  up  my  hat,  which  you  are  in  the  act  of 
stepping  on."  Miss  Galbraith  hastily  turns,  and 
strikes  the  hat  with  her  whirling  skirts ;  it  rolls 
to  the  other  side  of  the  parlor,  and  Mr.  Richards, 
who  goes  after  it,  utters  an  ironical  "  Thanks ! " 
He  brushes  it,  and  puts  it  on,  looking  at  her 
where  she  has  again  seated  herself  at  the  window 
with  her  back  to  him,  and  continues,  "  As  for  any 
further  molestation  from  me  "  — 

Miss  Galbraith  :  "  If  you  will  talk  to  me  "  — 


22  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

Mr.  Richards :  "  Excuse  ine,  I  am  not  talking  to 
you." 

Miss  Galbraith  :  "  What  were  you  doing  ?  " 

Mr.  Richards :  "  I  was  beginning  to  think  aloud. 
I  —  I  was  soliloquizing.  I  suppose  I  may  be 
allowed  to  soliloquize  ?  " 

Miss  Galbraith)  very  coldly :  "  You  can  do  what 
you  like." 

Mr.  Richards :  "  Unfortunately  that's  just  what 
I  can't  do.  If  I  could  do  as  I  liked,  I  should  ask 
you  a  single  question." 

Miss  Galbraith)  after  a  moment :  "  Well,  sir,  you 
may  ask  your  question."  She  remains  as  before, 
with  her  chin  in  her  hand,  looking  tearfully  out  of 
the  window ;  her  face  is  turned  from  Mr.  Richards, 
who  hesitates  a  moment  before  he  speaks. 

Mr.  Richards :  "  I  wish  to  ask  you  just  this, 
Miss  Galbraith :  if  you  couldn't  ride  backwards 
in  the  other  car,  why  do  you  ride  backwards  in 
this  ?  " 

Miss  Galbraith,  burying  her  face  in  her  hand- 
kerchief, and  sobbing :  "  Oh,  oh,  oh !  This  is  too 
bad ! " 

Mr.  Richards :  "  Oh,  come  now,  Lucy.  It  breaks 
my  heart  to  hear  you  going  on  so,  and  all  for 


AND  OTHER  FARCES.  23 

nothing.  Be  a  little  merciful  to  both  of  us,  and 
listen  to  me.  I've  no  doubt  I  can  explain  every- 
thing if  I  once  understand  it,  but  it's  pretty  hard 
explaining  a  thing  if  you  don't  understand  it  your- 
self. Do  turn  round.  I  know  it  makes  you  sick 
to  ride  in  that  way,  and  if  you  don't  want  to  face 
me  —  there  !  "  —  wheeling  in  his  chair  so  as  to 
turn  his  back  upon  her  —  "  you  needn't.  Though 
it's  rather  trying  to  a  fellow's  politeness,  not  to 
mention  his  other  feelings.  Now,  what  in  the 
name  "  — 

Porter,  who  at  this  moment  enters  with  his 
step-ladder,  and  begins  to  light  the  lamps  :  "Going 
pretty  slow  ag'in,  sah." 

Mr.  Richards:  "Yes;  what's  the  trouble ?" 

Porter:  "Well,  I  don't  know  exactly,  sah. 
Something  de  matter  with  de  locomotive.  We 
sha'n't  be  into  Albany  much  'fore  eight  o'clock." 

Mr.  Richards :  "  What's  the  next  station  ?  " 

Porter :  "  Schenectady." 

Mr.  Richards :  "  Is  the  whole  train  as  empty  as 
this  car  ?  " 

Porter,  laughing :  "  Well,  no,  sah.  Pact  is,  dis 
cah  don't  belong  on  dis  train.  It's  a  Pullman  that 
we  hitched  on  when  you  got  in,  and  we's  taking  it 


24  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

along  for  one  of  de  Eastern  roads.  We  let  you  in 
'cause  de  Drawing-rooms  was  all  full.  Same  with. 
de  lady,"  —  looking  sympathetically  at  her,  as  he 
takes  his  steps  to  go  out.  "  Can  I  do  anything  for 
you  now,  miss  ?  " 

Miss  Galbraith,  plaintively  :  "  No,  thank  you ; 
nothing  whatever."  She  has  turned  while  Mr. 
Richards  and  The  Porter  have  been  speaking,  and 
now  faces  the  back  of  the  former,  but  her  veil  is 
drawn  closely.  The  Porter  goes  out. 

Mr.  Richards,  wheeling  round  so  as  to  confront 
her:  "I  wish  you  would  speak  to  me  half  as 
kindly  as  you  do  to  that  darky,  Lucy." 

Miss  Galbraith  :  "  He  is  a  gentleman  !  " 

Mr.  Richards:  "He  is  an  urbane  and  well- 
informed  nobleman.  At  any  rate,  he's  a  man  and 
a  brother.  But  so  am  I."  Miss  Galbraith  does 
not  reply,  and  after  a  pause  Mr.  Richards  resumes. 
"  Talking  of  gentlemen,  I  recollect,  once,  coming 
up  on  the  day-boat  to  Poughkeepsie,  there  was  a 
poor  devil  of  a  tipsy  man  kept  following  a  young 
fellow  about,  and  annoying  him  to  death  —  trying 
to  fight  him,  as  a  tipsy  man  will,  and  insisting  that 
the  young  fellow  had  insulted  him.  By  and  by  he 
lost  his  balance  and  went  overboard,  and  the  other 


AND   OTHER   FAECES.  25 

jumped  after  him  and  fished  him  out."  Sensation 
on  the  part  of  Miss  Galbraith,  who  stirs  uneasily 
in  her  chair,  looks  out  of  the  window,  then  looks 
at  Mr.  Richards,  and  drops  her  head.  "  There  was 
a  young  lady  on  board,  who  had  seen  the  whole 
thing  —  a  very  charming  young  lady  indeed,  with 
pale  blond  hair  growing  very  thick  over  her  fore- 
head, and  dark  eyelashes  to  the  sweetest  blue  eyes 
in  the  world.  Well,  this  young  lady's  papa  was 
amongst  those  who  came  up  to  say  civil  things  to 
the  young  fellow  when  he  got  aboard  again,  and  to 
ask  the  honor  —  he  said  the  honor  —  of  his  ac- 
quaintance. And  when  he  came  out  of  his  state- 
room in  dry  clothes,  this  infatuated  old  gentleman 
was  waiting  for  him,  and  took  him  and  introduced 
him  to  his  wife  and  daughter ;  and  the  daughter 
said,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  a  perfectly  intoxi- 
cating impulsiveness,  that  it  was  the  grandest  and 
the  most  heroic  and  the  noblest  thing  that  she  had 
ever  seen,  and  she  should  always  be  a  better  girl 
for  having  seen  it.  Excuse  me,  Miss  Galbraith, 
for  troubling  you  with  these  facts  of  a  personal 
history,  which,  as  you  say,  is  a  matter  of  perfect 
indifference  to  you.  The  young  fellow  didn't 
think  at  the  time  he  had  done  anything  extraor- 


26  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

dinary ;  but  I  don't  suppose  he  did  expect  to  live 
to  have  the  same  girl  tell  him  he  was  no  gentle- 
man." 

Miss  Galbraith,  wildly:  "O  Allen,  Allen!  You 
know  I  think  you  are  a  gentleman,  and  I  always 
did ! " 

Mr.  Richards,  languidly:  "Oh,  I  merely  had 
your  word  for  it,  just  now,  that  you  didn't." 
Tenderly,  "  Will  you  hear  me,  Lucy  ?  " 

Miss  Galbraith,  faintly  :  "Yes." 

Mr.  Richards:  "Well,  what  is  it  I've  done? 
Will  you  tell  me  if  I  guess  right  ?  " 

Miss  Galbraith,  with  dignity:  "I  am  in  no 
humor  for  jesting,  Allen.  And  I  can  assure  you 
that  though  I  consent  to  hear  what  you  have  to 
say,  or  ask,  nothing  will  change  my  determination. 
All  is  over  between  us." 

Mr.  Richards:  "Yes,  I  understand  that,  per- 
fectly. I  am  now  asking  merely  for  general  in- 
formation. I  do  not  expect  you  to  relent,  and, 
in  fact,  I  should  consider  it  rather  frivolous  if  you 
did.  No.  What  I  have  always  admired  in  your 
character,  Lucy,  is  a  firm,  logical  consistency;  a 
clearness  of  mental  vision  that  leaves  no  side  of 
a  subject  unsearched;  and  an  unwavering  con- 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  27 

stancy  of  purpose.  You  may  say  that  these  traits 
are  characteristic  of  all  women ;  but  they  are  pre- 
eminently characteristic  of  you,  Lucy."  Miss 
Galbraith  looks  askance  at  him,  to  make  out 
whether  he  is  in  earnest  or  not ;  he  continues, 
with  a  perfectly  serious  air.  "And  I  know  now 
that  if  you're  offended  with  me,  it's  for  no  trivial 
cause."  She  stirs  uncomfortably  in  her  chair. 
"  What  I  have  done  I  can't  imagine,  but  it  must  be 
something  monstrous,  since  it  has  made  life  with 
me  appear  so  impossible  that  you  are  ready  to  fling 
away  your  own  happiness  —  for  I  know  you  did 
love  me,  Lucy  —  and  destroy  mine.  I  will  begin 
with  the  worst  thing  I  can  think  of.  Was  it  be- 
cause I  danced  so  much  with  Fanny  Watervliet  ?  " 

Miss  Galbraith,  indignantly :  "  How  can  you 
insult  me  by  supposing  that  I  could  be  jealous  of 
such  a  perfect  little  goose  as  that  ?  No,  Allen ! 
Whatever  I  think  of  you,  I  still  respect  you  too 
much  for  that" 

Mr.  Richards :  "  I'm  glad  to  hear  that  there  are 
yet  depths  to  which  you  think  me  incapable  of 
descending,  and  that  Miss  Watervliet  is  one  of 
them.  I  will  now  take  a  little  higher  ground. 
Perhaps  you  think  I  flirted  with  Mrs.  Dawes.  I 


28  THE  SLEEPING-CAR 

thought,  myself,  that  the  thing  might  begin  to 
have  that  appearance,  but  I  give  you  my  word  of 
honor  that  as  soon  as  the  idea  occurred  to  me,  I 
dropped  her — rather  rudely,  too.  The  trouble 
was,  don't  you  know,  that  I  felt  so  perfectly  safe 
with  a  married  friend  of  yours.  I  couldn't  be 
hanging  about  you  all  the  time,  and  I  was  afraid  I 
might  vex  you  if  I  went  with  the  other  girls  ;  and 
I  didn't  know  what  to  do." 

Miss  Galbraith :  "  I  think  you  behaved  rather 
silly,  giggling  so  much  with  her.  But  "  — 

Mr.  Richards :  "  I  own  it,  I  know  it  was  silly. 
But"—  % 

Miss  Galbraith :  "  It  wasn't  that ;  it  wasn't 
that ! " 

Mr.  Richards  :  "  Was  it  my  forgetting  to  bring 
you  those  things  from  your  mother  ?  " 

Miss  Galbraith  :  "  No  !  " 

Mr.  Richards :  "  Was  it  because  I  hadn't  given 
up  smoking  yet  ?  " 

Miss  Galbraith :  "  You  know  I  never  asked  you 
to  give  up  smoking.  It  was  entirely  your  own 
proposition." 

Mr.  Richards  :  "  That's  true.  That's  what  made 
me  so  easy  about  it.  I  knew  I  could  leave  it  off 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  29 

any  time.  Well,  I  will  not  disturb  you  any  longer, 
Miss  Galbraith."  He  throws  his  overcoat  across 
his  arm,  and  takes  up  his  travelling-bag.  "  I  have 
failed  to  guess  your  fatal  —  conundrum ;  and  I 
have  no  longer  any  excuse  for  remaining.  I  am 
going  into  the  smoking-car.  Shall  I  send  the 
porter  to  you  for  anything  ?  " 

Miss  Galbraith :  "  No,  thanks."  She  puts  up 
her  handkerchief  to  her  face. 

Mr.  Richards  :  "  Lucy,  do  you  send  me  away  ?  " 

Miss  Galbraith,  behind  her  handkerchief :  "  You 
were  going,  yourself." 

Mr.  Richards,  over  his  shoulder  :  "  Shall  I  come 
back  ?  " 

Miss  Galbraith :  "  I  have  no  right  to  drive  you 
from  the  car." 

Mr.  Richards,  coming  back,  and  sitting  down  in 
the  chair  nearest  her :  "  Lucy,  dearest,  tell  me 
what's  the  matter." 

Miss  Galbraith :  "  0  Allen !  your  not  knowing 
makes  it  all  the  more  hopeless  and  killing.  It 
shows  me  that  we  must  part ;  that  you  would  go 
on,  breaking  my  heart,  and  grinding  me  into  the 
dust  as  long  as  we  lived."  She  sobs.  "  It  shows 
me  that  you  never  understood  me,  and  you  never 


30  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

will.  I  know  you're  good  and  kind  and  all  that, 
but  that  only  makes  your  not  understanding  me 
so  much  the  worse.  I  do  it  quite  as  much  for  your 
sake  as  my  own,  Allen." 

Mr.  Richards :  "  I'd  much  rather  you  wouldn't 
put  yourself  out  on  my  account." 

Miss  Galbraith)  without  regarding  him :  "  If 
you  could  mortify  me  before  a  whole  roomful  of 
people,  as  you  did  last  night,  what  could  I  expect 
after  marriage  but  continual  insult  ?  " 

Mr.  Richards,  in  amazement :  "  How  did  I 
mortify  you  ?  I  thought  that  I  treated  you  with 
all  the  tenderness  and  affection  that  a  decent  re- 
gard for  the  feelings  of  others  would  allow.  I  was 
ashamed  to  find  I  couldn't  keep  away  from  you." 

Miss  Galbraith  :  "  Oh,  you  were  attentive  enough, 
Allen ;  nobody  denies  that.  Attentive  enough 
in  non-essentials.  Oh,  yes  !  " 

Mr.  Richards  :  "  Well,  what  vital  matters  did  I 
fail  in  ?  I'm  sure  I  can't  remember." 

Miss  Galbraith  :  "  I  dare  say  !  I  dare  say  they 
won't  appear  vital  to  you,  Allen.  Nothing  does. 
And  if  I  had  told  you,  I  should  have  been  met 
with  ridicule,  I  suppose.  But  I  knew  better  than 
to  tell ;  I  respected  myself  too  much." 


AND   OTHEK   FAECES.  31 

Mr.  Richards :  "  But  now  you  mustn't  respect 
yourself  quite  so  much,  dearest.  And  I  promise 
you  I  won't  laugh  at  the  most  serious  thing.  I'm 
in  no  humor  for  it.  If  it  were  a  matter  of  life 
and  death,  even,  I  can  assure  you  that  it  wouldn't 
bring  a  smile  to  my  countenance.  No,  indeed ! 
If  you  expect  me  to  laugh,  now,  you  must  say 
something  particularly  funny." 

Miss  Galbraith :  "  I  was  not  going  to  say  any- 
thing funny,  as  you  call  it,  and  I  will  say  nothing 
at  all,  if  you  talk  in  that  way." 

Mr.  Richards  :  "  Well,  I  won't,  then.  But  do 
you  know  what  I  suspect,  Lucy  ?  I  wouldn't  men- 
tion it  to  everybody,  but  I  will  to  you  —  in  strict 
confidence  :  I  suspect  that  you're  rather  ashamed 
of  your  grievance,  if  you  have  any.  I  suspect  it's 
nothing  at  all." 

Miss  Galbraith,  very  sternly  at  first,  with  a 
rising  hysterical  inflection  :  "  Nothing,  Allen  !  Do 
you  call  it  nothing,  to  have  Mrs.  Dawes  come  out 
with  all  that  about  your  accident  on  your  way  up 
the  river,  and  ask  me  if  it  didn't  frighten  me 
terribly  to  hear  of  it,  even  after  it  was  all  over ; 
and  I  had  to  say  you  hadn't  told  me  a  word  of  it  ? 
'  Why,  Lucy  ! '  "  —  angrily  mimicking  Mrs.  Dawes, 


32  THE  SLEEPING-CAR 

—  "  '  you  must  teach  liim  better  than  that.  I  make 
Mr.  Dawes  tell  me  everything.'  Little  simpleton  ! 
And  then  to  have  them  all  laugh  —  Oh,  dear,  it's 
too  much ! " 

Mr.  Richards :  "  Why,  my  dear  Lucy  " — 

Miss  Galbraith,  interrupting  him:  "I  saw  just 
how  it  was  going  to  be,  and  I'm  thankful,  thankful 
that  it  happened.  I  saw  that  you  didn't  care 
enough  for  me  to  take  me  into  your  whole  life ; 
that  you  despised  and  distrusted  me,  and  that  it 
would  get  worse  and  worse  to  the  end  of  our  days ; 
that  we  should  grow  farther  and  farther  apart, 
and  I  should  be  left  moping  at  home,  while  you 
ran  about  making  confidantes  of  other  women 
whom  you  considered  worthy  of  your  confidence. 
It  all  flashed  upon  me  in  an  instant ;  and  I 
resolved  to  break  with  you,  then  and  there ;  and 
I  did,  just  as  soon  as  ever  I  could  go  to  my  room 
for  your  things,  and  I'm  glad,  —  yes,  —  Oh,  hu,  hu, 
hu,  hu,  hu !  —  so  glad  I  did  it !  " 

Mr.  Richards,  grimly :  "  Your  joy  is  obvious. 
May  I  ask"  — 

Miss  Galbraith  :  "  Oh,  it  wasn't  the  first  proof 
you  had  given  me  how  little  you  really  cared  for 
me,  but  I  was  determined  it  should  be  the  last.  I 


AND  OTHER   FAUCES.  33 

dare  say  you've  forgotten  them  !  I  dare  say  you 
don't  remember  telling  Mamie  Morris  that  you 
didn't  like  embroidered  cigar-cases,  when  you'd  just 
told  me  that  you  did,  and  let  me  be  such  a  fool  as 
to  commence  one  for  you ;  but  I'm  thankful  to 
say  that  went  into  the  fire,  —  oh,  yes,  instantly ! 
And  I  dare  say  you've  forgotten  that  you  didn't 
tell  me  your  brother's  engagement  was  to  be  kept, 
and  let  me  come  out  with  it  that  night  at  the 
Budges',  and  then  looked  perfectly  aghast,  so  that 
everybody  thought  I  had  been  blabbing !  Time 
and  again,  Allen,  you  have  made  me  suffer  agonies, 
yes,  agonies ;  but  your  power  to  do  so  is  at  an 
end.  I  am  free  and  happy  at  last."  She  weeps 
bitterly. 

Mr.  Richards,  quietly:  "Yes,  I  had  forgotten 
those  crimes,  and  I  suppose  many  similar  atrocities. 
I  own  it,  I  am  forgetful  and  careless.  I  was  wrong 
about  those  things.  I  ought  to  have  told  you  why 
I  said  that  to  Miss  Morris  :  I  was  afraid  she  was 
going  to  work  me  one.  As  to  that  accident  I  told 
Mrs.  Dawes  of,  it  wasn't  worth  mentioning.  Our 
boat  simply  walked  over  a  sloop  in  the  night,  and 
nobody  was  hurt.  I  shouldn't  have  thought  twice 
about  it,  if  she  hadn't  happened  to  brag  of  their 


34  THE    SLEEPING-CAK 

passing  close  to  an  iceberg  on  their  way  home 
from  Europe ;  then  I  trotted  out  my  pretty-near 
disaster  as  a  match  for  hers,  —  confound  her !  I 
wish  the  iceberg  had  sunk  them  !  Only  it  wouldn't 
have  sunk  her,  —  she's  so  light ;  she'd  have  gone 
bobbing  about  all  over  the  Atlantic  Ocean,  like  a 
cork ;  she's  got  a  perfect  life-preserver  in  that 
mind  of  hers."  Miss  Galbraith  gives  a  little 
laugh,  and  then  a  little  moan.  "  But  since  you  are 
happy,  I  will  not  repine,  Miss  Galbraith.  I  don't 
pretend  to  be  very  happy  myself,  but  then,  I  don't 
deserve  it.  Since  you  are  ready  to  let  an  abso- 
lutely unconscious  offence  on  my  part  cancel  all 
the  past ;  since  you  let  my  devoted  love  weigh  as 
nothing  against  the  momentary  pique  that  a 
malicious  little  rattle-pate  —  she  was  vexed  at  my 
leaving  her  —  could  make  you  feel,  and  choose  to 
gratify  a  wicked  resentment  at  the  cost  of  any 
suffering  to  me,  why,  /  can  be  glad  and  happy  too." 
With  rising  anger,  "  Yes,  Miss  Galbraith.  All  is 
over  between  us.  You  can  go  !  I  renounce  you !  " 

Miss  Galbraith,  springing  fiercely  to  her  feet  : 
"  Go,  indeed !  Kenounce  me !  Be  so  good  as  to 
remember  that  you  haven't  got  me  to  renounce  ! " 

Mr.  Richards:  "Well,  it's  all  the  same  thing. 


AND   OTHER  FARCES.  35 

I'd  renounce  you  if  I  had.  Good-evening,  Miss 
Galbraith.  I  will  send  back  your  presents  as  soon 
as  I  get  to  town ;  it  won't  be  necessary  to  acknowl- 
edge them.  I  hope  we  may  never  meet  again." 
He  goes  out  of  the  door  towards  the  front  of  the 
car,  but  returns  directly,  and  glances  uneasily  at 
Miss  Galbraith,  who  remains  with  her  handker- 
chief pressed  to  her  eyes.  "Ah  —  a  —  that  is  — 
I  shall  be  obliged  to  intrude  upon  you  again.  The 
fact  is  "  — 

Miss  Galbraith,  anxiously  :  "  Why,,  the  cars  have 
stopped !  Are  we  at  Schenectady  ?  " 

Mr.  Richards :  "  Well,  no ;  not  exactly ;  not 
exactly  at  /Schenectady"  — 

Miss  Galbraith :  "  Then  what  station  is  this  ? 
Have  they  carried  me  by  ?  "  Observing  his  em- 
barrassment, "Allen,  what  is  the  matter  ?  What 
lias  happened  ?  Tell  me  instantly  !  Are  we  off 
the  Irack  ?  Have  we  run  into  another  train  ? 
Have  we  broken  through  a  bridge  ?  Shall  we  be 
burnt  alive  ?  Tell  me,  Allen,  tell  me,  —  I  can  bear 
it !  —  are  we  telescoped  ?  "  She  wrings  her  hands 
in  terror. 

Mr.  Richards,  unsympathetically :  "  Nothing  of 
the  kind  has  happened.  This  car  has  simply  come 


36  THE  SLEEPING-CAR 

uncoupled,  and  the  rest  of  the  train  has  gone  on 
ahead,  and  left  us  standing  on  the  track,  nowhere 
in  particular."  He  leans  back  in  his  chair,  and 
wheels  it  round  from  her. 

Miss  Galbraith,  mortified,  yet  anxious  :  "  Well  ?  " 

Mr.  Richards:  "Well,  until  they  miss  us,  and 
run  back  to  pick  us  up,  I  shall  be  obliged  to  ask 
your  indulgence.  I  will  try  not  to  disturb  you; 
I  would  go  out  and  stand  on  the  platform,  but 
it's  raining." 

Miss  Galbraith,  listening  to  the  rain-fall  on 
the  roof:  "Why,  so  it  is!"  Timidly,  "Did  you 
notice  when  the  car  stopped  ?  " 

Mr.  Richards:  "No."  He  rises  and  goes  out 
at  the  rear  door,  comes  back,  and  sits  down 
again. 

Miss  Galbraith,  rises,  and  goes  to  the  large 
mirror  to  wipe  away  her  tears.  She  glances  at 
Mr.  Richards,  who  does  not  move.  She  sits  down 
in  a  seat  nearer  him  than  the  chair  she  has  left. 
After  some  faint  murmurs  and  hesitations,  she 
asks,  "  Will  you  please  tell  me  why  you  went  out 
just  now  ?  " 

Mr.  Richards,  with  indifference :  "  Yes.  I  went 
to  see  if  the  rear  signal  was  out." 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  37 

Miss  Galbraith,  after  another  hesitation: 
"  Why  ?  " 

Mr.  Richards :  "  Because,  if  it  wasn't  out,  some 
train  might  run  into  us  from  that  direction." 

Miss  Galbraith,  tremulously :  "  Oh !  And  was  it  ?" 

Mr.  Richards,  dryly  :  "  Yes." 

Miss  Galbraith  returns  to  her  former  place, 
with  a  wounded  air,  and  for  a  moment  neither 
speaks.  Finally  she  asks  very  meekly,  "And 
there's  no  danger  from  the  front  ?  " 

Mr.  Richards,  coldly  :  "  No." 

Miss  Galbraith,  after  some  little  noises  and 
movements  meant  to  catch  Mr.  Richards9 s  atten- 
tion: "Of  course,  I  never  meant  to  imply  that 
you  were  intentionally  careless  or  forgetful." 

Mr.  Richards,  still  very  coldly  :  "  Thank  you." 

Miss  Galbraith:  "I  always  did  justice  to  your 
good-heartedness,  Allen;  you're  perfectly  lovely 
that  way ;  and  I  know  that  you  would  be  sorry  if 
you  knew  you  had  wounded  my  feelings,  however 
accidentally."  She  droops  her  head  so  as  to  catch 
a  sidelong  glimpse  of  his  face,  and  sighs,  while 
she  nervously  pinches  the  top  of  her  parasol, 
resting  the  point  on  the  floor.  Mr.  Richards 
makes  no  answer.  "That  about  the  cigar-case 


38  THE  SLEEPING-CAR 

might  have  been  a  mistake ;  I  saw  that  myself, 
and,  as  you  explain  it,  why,  it  was  certainly  very 
kind  and  very  creditable  to  —  to  your  thoughtful- 
ness.  It  was  thoughtful !  " 

Mr.  Richards:  "I  am  grateful  for  your  good 
opinion." 

3Iiss  Galbraith :  "  But  do  you  think  it  was  ex- 
actly—  it  was  quite  —  nice,  not  to  tell  me  that 
your  brother's  engagement  was  to  be  kept,  when 
you  know,  Allen,  I  can't  bear  to  blunder  in  such 
things?"  Tenderly,  "Do  you?  You  can't  say 
it  was  ?  " 

Mr.  Richards  :  "  I  never  said  it  was." 

Miss  Galbraith,  plaintively :  "  No,  Allen.  That's 
what  I  always  admired  in  your  character.  You 
always  owned  up.  Don't  you  think  it's  easier  for 
men  to  own  up  than  it  is  for  women  ?  " 

Mr.  Richards:  "I  don't  know.  I  never  knew 
any  woman  to  do  it." 

Miss  Galbraith :  "  Oh,  yes,  Allen  !  You  know  I 
often  own  up." 

Mr.  Richards:  "No,  I  don't." 

Miss  Galbraith :  "  Oh,  how  can  you  bear  to  say 
so  ?  When  I'm  rash,  or  anything  of  that  kind, 
you  know  I  acknowledge  it." 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  39 

Mr.  Eichards  :  "  Do  you  acknowledge  it  now  ?  " 

Miss  Galbraith :  "  Why,  how  can  I,  when  I 
haven't  been  rash  ?  What  have  I  been  rash 
about  ?  " 

Mr.  ^Richards:  "About  the  cigar-case,  for  ex- 
ample." 

Miss  Galbraith :  "  Oh !  that !  That  was  a  great 
while  ago  !  I  thought  you  meant  something  quite 
recent."  A  sound  as  of  the  approaching  train  is 
heard  in  the  distance.  She  gives  a  start,  and 
then  leaves  her  chair  again  for  one  a  little  nearer 
his.  "  I  thought  perhaps  you  meant  about  —  last 
night." 

Mr.  Richards  :  "  Well." 

Miss  Galbraith,  very  judicially :  "  I  don't  think 
it  was  rash}  exactly.  No,  not  rash.  It  might  not 
have  been  very  kind  not  to  —  to  —  trust  you  more, 
when  I  knew  that  you  didn't  mean  anything; 
but  —  No,  I  took  the  only  course  I  could.  JVb- 
body  could  have  done  differently  under  the  circum- 
stances. But  if  I  caused  you  any  pain,  I  'm  very 
sorry ;  oh,  yes,  very  sorry  indeed.  But  I  was  not 
precipitate,  and  I  know  I  did  right.  At  least  I 
tried  to  act  for  the  best.  Don't  you  believe  I 
did?" 


40  THE   SLEEPING-CAK 

Mr.  Richards:  "Why,  if  you  have  no  doubt 
upon  the  subject,  my  opinion  is  of  no  conse- 
quence." 

Miss  Galbraith :  "  Yes.  But  what  do  you  think? 
If  you  think  differently,  and  can  make  me  see  it 
differently,  oughtn't  you  to  do  so  ?  " 

Mr.  Richards :  "  I  don't  see  why.  As  you  say, 
all  is  over  between  us."  . 

Miss  Galbraith:  "Yes."  After  a  pause,  "I 
should  suppose  you  would  care  enough  for  your- 
self to  wish  me  to  look  at  the  matter  from  the 
right  point  of  view." 

Mr.  Richards  :  "  I  don't." 

Miss  Galbraith,  becoming  more  and  more  un- 
easy as  the  noise  of  the  approaching  train  grows 
louder:  "I  think  you  have  been  very  quick  with 
me  at  times,  quite  as  quick  as  I  could  have  been 
with  you  last  night."  The  noise  is  more  distinctly 
heard.  "I'm  sure  that  if  I  could  once  see  it  as 
you  do,  no  one  would  be  more  willing  to  do 
anything  in  their  power  to  atone  for  their  rash- 
ness. Of  course  I  know  that  everything  is 
over." 

Mr.  Richards :  "  As  to  that,  I  have  your  word ; 
and,  in  view  of  the  fact,  perhaps  this  analysis  of 


AND  OTHER  FARCES.  41 

motive,  of  character,  however  interesting  on  gen- 
eral grounds,  is  a  little  "  — 

Miss  Galbraith,  with  sudden  violence  :  "  Say  it, 
and  take  your  revenge !  I  have  put  myself  at 
your  feet,  and  you  do  right  to  trample  on  me ! 
Oh,  this  is  what  women  may  expect  when  they 
trust  to  men's  generosity  !  Well,  it  is  over  now, 
and  I'm  thankful,  thankful !  Cruel,  suspicious, 
vindictive,  you're  all  alike,  and  I'm  glad  that  I'm 
no  longer  subject  to  your  heartless  caprices.  And 
I  don't  care  what  happens  after  this,  I  shall 
always  —  Oh  !  You're  sure  it's  from  the  front, 
Allen  ?  Are  you  sure  the  rear  signal  is  out  ?  " 

Mr.  Richards,  relenting:  "Yes,  but  if  it  will 
ease  your  mind,  I'll  go  and  look  again."  He  rises, 
and  starts  towards  the  rear  door. 

Miss  Galbraith,  quickly  :  "  Oh,  no  !  Don't  go  ! 
"l  can't  bear  to  be  left  alone  ! "  The  sound  of  the 
approaching  train  continually  increases  in  volume. 
"  Oh,  isn't  it  coming  very,  very,  very  fast  ?  " 

Mr.  Richards :  "  No,  no  !     Don't  be  frightened." 

Miss  Galbraith,  running  towards  the  rear  door. 
"  Oh,  I  must  get  out !  It  will  kill  me,  I  know  it 
will.  Come  with  me !  Do,  do ! "  He  runs  after 
her,  and  her  voice  is  heard  at  the  rear  of  the  car. 


42  THE  SLEEPING  -CAR 

"Oh,  the  outside  door  is  locked,  and  we  are 
trapped,  trapped,  trapped !  Oh,  quick !  Let's  try 
the  door  at  the  other  end,"  They  re-enter  the 
parlor,  and  the  roar  of  the  train  announces  that 
it  is  upon  them.  "No,  no  !  It's  too  late,  it's  too 
late !  I'm  a  wicked,  wicked  girl,  and  this  is  all 
to  punish  me  !  Oh,  it's  coming,  it's  coming  at  full 
speed ! "  He  remains  bewildered,  confronting  her. 
She  utters  a  wild  cry,  and  as  the  train  strikes  the 
car  with  a  violent  concussion,  she  flings  herself 
into  his  arms.  "  There,  there !  Forgive  me, 
Allen !  Let  us  die  together,  my  own,  own  love  ! " 
She  hangs  fainting  on  his  breast.  Voices  are 
heard  without,  and  after  a  little  delay  The  Porter 
comes  in  with  a  lantern. 

Porter :  "Rather  more  of  a  jah  than  we  meant 
to  give  you,  sah  !  We  had  to  run  down  pretty 
quick  after  we  missed  you,  and  the  rain  made  the 
track  a  little  slippery.  Lady  much  frightened  ?  " 

Miss  Galbraith,  disengaging  herself :  "  Oh,  not 
at  all !  Not  in  the  least.  We  thought  it  was  a 
train  coming  from  behind,  and  going  to  run  into 
us,  and  so  —  we  —  I  "  — 

Porter:  "Not  quite  so  bad  as  that.  We'll  be 
into  Schenectady  in  a  few  minutes,  miss.  I'll 


AND  OTHER  FARCES.  43 

come  for  your  things."  He  goes  out  at  the  other 
door. 

Miss  Galbraith,  in  a  fearful  whisper :  "  Allen  ! 
What  will  he  ever  think  of  us  ?  I'm  sure  he  saw 
us ! " 

Mr.  Richards :  "  I  don't  know  what  he'll  think 
now.  He  did  think  you  were  frightened  ;  but  you 
told  him  you  were  not.  However,  it  isn't  im- 
portant what  he  thinks.  Probably  he  thinks  I'm 
your  long-lost  brother.  It  had  a  kind  of  family 
look." 

Miss  Galbraith :  "  Eidiculous  ! " 

Mr.  Richards :  "  Why,  he'd  never  suppose  that 
I  was  a  jilted  lover  of  yours  ! " 

Miss  Galbraith,  ruefully:  "No." 

Mr.  Richards  :  "  Come,  Lucy,"  —  taking  her 
hand,  — "  you  wished  to  die  with  me,  a  moment 
ago.  Don't  you  think  you  can  make  one  more 
effort  to  live  with  me  ?  I  won't  take  advantage 
of  words  spoken  in  mortal  peril,  but  I  suppose 
you  were  in  earnest  when  you  called  me  your  own 
—  own  "  —  Her  head  droops ;  he  folds  her  in 
his  arms  a  moment,  then  she  starts  away  from 
him,  as  if  something  had  suddenly  occurred  to 
her. 


44  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

Miss  Galbraith  :  "  Allen,  where  are  you  going  ?  " 

Mr.  Richards :  "  Going  ?  Upon  my  soul,  I 
haven't  the  least  idea." 

Miss  Galbraith :  "  Where  were  you  going  ?  " 

Mr.  Richards :  "  Oh,  I  was  going  to  Albany." 

Miss  Galbraith :  "  Well,  don't !  Aunt  Mary  is 
expecting  me  here  at  Schenectady,  —  I  telegraphed 
her,  —  and  I  want  you  to  stop  here,  too,  and  we'll 
refer  the  whole  matter  to  her.  She's  such  a  wise 
old  head.  I'm  not  sure  "  — 

Mr.  Richards  :  "  What  ?  " 

Miss  Galbraith,  demurely :  "  That  I'm  good 
enough  for  you." 

Mr.  Richards,  starting,  in  burlesque  of  her  move- 
ment, as  if  a  thought  had  struck  him :  "  Lucy ! 
how  came  you  on  this  train  when  you  left 
Syracuse  on  the  morning  express  ? " 

Miss  Galbraith,  faintly :  "  I  waited  over  a  train 
at  Utica."  She  sinks  into  a  chair,  and  averts  her 
face. 

Mr.  Richards  :  "  May  I  ask  why  ?  " 

Miss  Galbraith,  more  faintly  still :  "  I  don't 
like  to  tell.  I"  — 

Mr.  Richards,  coming  and  standing  in  front  of 
her,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets :  "  Look  me 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  45 

in  the  eye,  Lucy  !  "  She  drops  her  veil  over  her 
face,  and  looks  up  at  him.  "Did  you  —  did  you 
expect  to  find  me  on  this  train  ?  " 

Miss  Galbraith:  "I  was  afraid  it  never  would 
get  along,  —  it  was  so  late  !  " 

Mr.  Richards:  "Don't  —  tergiversate." 

Miss  Galbraith  :  "  Don't  what  ?  " 

Mr.  Richards :  "  Fib." 

Miss  Galbraith  :  "  Not  for  worlds  ! " 

Mr.  Richards :  "  How  did  you  know  I  was  in 
this  car?" 

Miss  Galbraith :  "  Must  I  ?  I  thought  I  saw 
you  through  the  window;  and  then  I  made  sure 
it  was  you  when  I  went  to  pin  my  veil  on,  —  I 
saw  you  in  the  mirror." 

Mr.  Richards,  after  a  little  silence  :  "  Miss  Gal- 
braith, do  you  want  to  know  what  you  are  ?  " 

Miss  Galbraith,  softly:  "Yes,  Allen." 

Mr.  Richards :  "  You're  a  humbug !  " 

Miss  Galbraith,  springing  from  her  seat,  and 
confronting  him.  "  So  are  you !  You  pretended 
to  be  asleep  ! " 

Mr.  Richards  :  "I  —  I  —  I  was  taken  by  sur- 
prise. I  had  to  take  time  to  think." 

Miss  Galbraith  :  "  So  did  I." 


46  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

Mr.  Richards:  "And  you  thought  it  would  be 
a  good  plan  to  get  your  polonaise  caught  in  the 
window  ?  " 

Miss  Galbraith,  hiding  her  face  on  his  shoulder  : 
"No,  no,  Allen!  That  I  never  will  admit.  No 
woman  would!" 

Mr.  Richards:  "Oh,  I  dare  say!"  After  a 
pause :  "  Well,  I  am  a  poor,  weak,  helpless  man, 
with  no  one  to  advise  me  or  counsel  me,  and 
I  have  been  cruelly  deceived.  How  could  you, 
Lucy,  how  could  you?  I  can  never  get  over 
this."  He  drops  his  head  upon  her  shoulder. 

Miss  Galbraith,  starting  away  again,  and  look- 
ing about  the  car:  "'Allen,  I  have  an  idea!  Do 
you  suppose  Mr.  Pullman  could  be  induced  to  sell 
this  car  ?  " 

Mr.  Richards  :  "  Why  ?  " 

Miss  Galbraith:  "Why,  because  I  think  it's 
perfectly  lovely,  and  I  should  like  to  live  in  it 
always.  It  could  be  fitted  up  for  a  sort  of 
summer-house,  don't  you  know,  and  we  could  have 
it  in  the  garden,  and  you  could  smoke  in  it." 

Mr.  Richards :  "  Admirable !  It  would  look 
just  like  a  travelling  photographic  saloon.  No, 
Lucy,  we  won't  buy  it;  we  will  simply  keep  it 


AND   OTHER   FAUCES.  47 

as  a  precious  souvenir,  a  sacred  memory,  a  beauti- 
ful dream,  —  and  let  it  go  on  fulfilling  its  destiny 
all  the  same." 

Porter,  entering,  and  gathering  up  Miss  Gal- 
braith's  things :  "  Be  at  Schenectady  in  half  a 
minute,  miss.  Won't  have  much  time." 

Miss  Galbraith,  rising,  and  adjusting  her  dress, 
and  then  looking  about,  the  car,  while  she  passes 
her  hand  through  her  lover's  arm :  "  Oh,  I  do 
hate  to  leave  it.  Farewell,  you  dear,  kind,  good, 
lovely  car!  May  you  never  have  another  acci- 
dent ! "  She  kisses  her  hand  to  the  car,  upon 
which  they  both  look  back  as  they  slowly  leave 
it. 

Mr.  Richards,  kissing  his  hand  in  the  like  man- 
ner :  "  Good-by,  sweet  chariot !  May  you  never 
carry  any  but  bridal  couples  !  " 

Miss  Galbraith :  "  Or  engaged  ones  ! " 

Mr.  Richards :  "  Or  husbands  going  home  to  their 
wives ! " 

Miss  Galbraith :  "  Or  wives  hastening  to  their 
husbands." 

Mr.  Richards:  "Or  young  ladies  who  have 
waited  one  train  over,  so  as  to  be  with  the  young 
men  they  hate." 


48  THE   SLEEPING-CAE. 

Miss  Galbraith :  "  Or  young  men  who  are  so 
indifferent  that  they  pretend  to  be  asleep  when 
the  young  ladies  come  in!"  They  pause  at  the 
door  and  look  back  again.  "  '  And  must  I  leave 
thee,  Paradise  ? ' '  They  both  kiss  their  hands  to 
the  car  again,  and,  their  faces  being  very  close 
together,  they  impulsively  kiss  each  other.  Then 
Miss  Galbraith  throws  back  her  head,  and  solemnly 
confronts  him.  "  Only  think,  Allen  !  If  this  car 
hadn't  broken  its  engagement,  we  might  never 
have  mended  ours." 


THE    SLEEPING-CAR. 

FARCE. 


THE  SLEEPING-CAB. 


SCENE:  One  side  of  a  sleeping-car  on  the  Boston 
and  Albany  R-oad.  The  curtains  are  drawn 
before  most  of  the  berths :  from  the  hooks  and 
rods  hang  hats,  bonnets,  bags,  bandboxes,  um- 
brellas, and  other  travelling-gear:  on  the  floor 
are  boots  of  both  sexes,  set  out  for  The  Porter 
to  black.  The  Porter  is  making  up  the  beds  in 
the  upper  and  lower  berths  adjoining  the  seats 
on  which  a  young  mother,  slender  and  pretty, 
with  a  baby  asleep  on  the  seat  beside  her,  and  a 
stout  old  lady,  sit  confronting  each  other  —  Mrs. 
Agnes  Roberts  and  her  Aunt  Mary. 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  Do  you  always  take  down  your 
back  hair,  aunty  ?  " 

Aunt  Mary:  "No,  never,  child;  at  least  not 
since  I  had  such  a  fright  about  it  once,  coming  on 
from  New  York.  It's  all  well  enough  to  take 
51 


52  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

\ 

down  your  back  hair  if  it  is  yours ;  but  if  it  isn't, 
your  head's  the  best  place  for  it.  Now,  as  I  buy 
mine  of  Madame  Pierrot "  — 

Mrs.  Roberts:  "Don't  you  wish  she  wouldn't 
advertise  it  as  human  hair  ?  It  sounds  so  pokerish 
—  like  human  flesh,  you  know." 

Aunt  Mary :  "  Why,  she  couldn't  call  it  whuman 
hair,  my  dear." 

Mrs.  Roberts,  thoughtfully :  "No  —  just  hair." 

Aunt  Mary :  "  Then  people  might  think  it  was 
for  mattresses.  But,  as  I  was  saying,  I  took  it  off 
that  night,  and  tucked  it  safely  away,  as  I  sup- 
posed, in  my  pocket,  and  I  slept  sweetly  till  about 
midnight,  when  I  happened  to  open  my  eyes,  and 
saw  something  long  and  black  crawl  off  my  bed 
and  slip  under  the  berth.  Such  a  shriek  as  I  gave, 
my  dear  !  '  A  snake  !  a  snake  !  oh,  a  snake  ! ' 
And  everybody  began  talking  at  once,  and  some 
of  the  gentlemen  swearing,  and  the  porter  came 
running  with  the  poker  to  kill  it ;  and  all  the 
while  it  was  that  ridiculous  switch  of  mine,  that 
had  worked  out  of  my  pocket.  And  glad  enough 
I  was  to  grab  it  up  before  anybody  saw  it,  and  say 
I  must  have  been  dreaming." 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  Why,  aunty,  how  funny  !    How 


AND    OTHER   FAECES.  53 

could  you  suppose  a  serpent  could  get  on  board  a 
sleeping-car,  of  all  places  in  the  world  ?  " 

Aunt  Mary :  "  That  was  the  perfect  absurdity  of 
it." 

The  Porter :  "  Berths  ready  now,  ladies." 
Mrs.  Roberts,  to  The  Porter,  who  walks  away  to 
the  end  of  the  car,  and  sits  down  near  the  door : 
"  Oh,  thank  you !  —  Aunty,  do  you  feel  nervous  the 
least  bit  ?  " 

Aunt  Mary  :  "  Nervous  ?  No.  Why  ?  " 
Mrs.  Roberts :  "  Well,  I  don't  know.  I  suppose 
I've  been  worked  up  a  little  about  meeting  Willis, 
and  wondering  how  he'll  look,  and  all.  We  can't 
know  each  other,  of  course.  It  doesn't  stand  to 
reason  that  if  he's  been  out  there  for  twelve  years, 
ever  since  I  was  a  child,  though  we*ve  corresponded 
regularly  —  at  least  I  have  —  that  he  could  recog- 
nize me ;  not  at  the  first  glance,  you  know.  He'll 
have  a  full  beard ;  and  then  I've  got  married,  and 
here's  the  baby.  Oh,  no!  he'll  never  guess  who 
it  is  in  the  world.  Photographs  really  amount  to 
nothing  in  such  a  case.  I  wish  we  were  at  home, 
and  it  was  all  over.  I  wish  he  had  written  some 
particulars,  instead  of  telegraphing  from  Ogden, 
'  Be  with  you  on  the  7  A.M.,  Wednesday.' " 


54  THE   SLEEPING-CAB 

Aunt  Mary :  "  Californians  always  telegraph, 
my  dear;  they  never  think  of  writing.  It  isn't 
expensive  enough,  and  it  doesn't  make  your  blood 
run  cold  enough,  to  get  a  letter,  and  so  they  send 
you  one  of  those  miserable  yellow  despatches 
whenever  they  can  —  those  printed  in  a  long 
string,  if  possible,  so  that  you'll  be  sure  to  die 
before  you  get  to  the  end  of  it.  I  suppose  your 
brother  has  fallen  into  all  those  ways,  and  says 
1  reckon'  and  'ornary'  and  ' which  the  same/  just 
like  one  of  Mr.  Bret  Harte's  characters." 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "But  it  isn't  exactly  our  not 
knowing  each  other,  aunty,  that's  worrying  me ; 
that's  something  that  could  be  got  over  in  time. 
Wha^t  is  simply  driving  me  distracted  is  Willis  and 
Edward  meeting  there  when  I'm  away  from  home. 
Oh,  how  could  I  be  away  !  and  why  couldn't 
Willis  have  given  us  fair  warning  ?  I  would  have 
hurried  from  the  ends  of  the  earth  to  meet  him. 
I  don't  believe  poor  Edward  ever  saw  a  Califor- 
nian ;  and  he's  so  quiet  and  pre-occupied,  I'm  sure 
he'd  never  get  on  with  Willis.  And  if  Willis  is 
the  least  loud,  he  wouldn't  like  Edward.  Not  that 
I  suppose  he  is  loud ;  but  I  don't  believe  he  knows 
anything  about  literary  men.  But  you  can  see, 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  55 

aunty,  can't  you,  how  very  anxious  I  must  be  ? 
Don't  you  see  that  I  ought  to  have  been  there 
when  Willis  and  Edward  met,  so  as  to  —  to  —  well, 
to  break  them  to  each  other,  don't  you  know  ?  " 

Aunt  Mary:  "Oh,  you  needn't  be  troubled 
about  that,  Agnes.  I  dare  say  they've  got  on 
perfectly  well  together.  Very  likely  they're  sit- 
ting down  to  the  unwholesomest  hot  supper  this 
instant  that  the  ingenuity  of  man  could  invent." 

Mrs.  Roberts:  "Oh,  do  you  think  they  are, 
aunty  ?  Oh,  if  I  could  only  believe  they  were 
sitting  down  to  a  hot  supper  together  now,  I  should 
be  so  happy!  They'd  be  sure  to  get  on  if  they 
were.  There's  nothing  like  eating  to  make  men 
friendly  with  each  other.  Don't  you  know,  at 
receptions,  how  they  never  have  anything  to  say 
to  each  other  till  the  escalloped  oysters  and  the 
chicken  salad  appear;  and  then  how  sweet  they 
are  as  soon  as  they've  helped  the  ladies  to  ice  ? 
Oh,  thank  you,  thank  you,  aunty,  for  thinking  of 
the  hot  supper !  It's  such  a  relief  to  my  mind ! 
You  can  understand,  can't  you,  aunty  dear,  how 
anxious  I  must  have  been  to  have  my  only  brother 
and  my  only  —  my  husband  —  get  on  nicely  to- 
gether? My  life  would  be  a  wreck,  simply  a 


56  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

wreck,  if  they  didn't.  And  Willis  and  I  not 
having  seen  each  other  since  I  was  a  child  makes 
it  all  the  worse.  I  do  hope  they're  sitting  down  to 
a  hot  supper." 

An  angry  Voice  from  the  next  berth  but  one :  "  I 
wish  people  in  sleeping-cars  "  — 

A  Voice  from  the  berth  beyond  that:  "You're 
mistaken  in  your  premises,  sir.  This  is  a  waking- 
car.  Ladies,  go  on,  and  oblige  an  eager  listener." 
Sensation,  and  smothered  laughter  from  the  other 
berths. 

Mrs.  Roberts,  after  a  space  of  terrified  silence, 
in  a  loud  whisper  to  her  Aunt:  "What  horrid 
things !  But  now  we  really  must  go  to  bed.  It 
was  too  bad  to  keep  talking.  I'd  no  idea  my  voice 
was  getting  so  loud.  Which  berth  will  you  have, 
aunty  ?  I'd  better  take  the  upper  one,  because  "  — 

Aunt  Mary,  whispering :  "  No,  no ;  I  must  take 
that,  so  that  you  can  be  with  the  baby  below." 

Mrs.  Roberts:  aOh,  how  good  you  are,  Aunt 
Mary !  It's  too  bad ;  it  is  really.  I  can't  let 
you." 

Aunt  Mary :  "  Well,  then,  you  must ;  that's  all. 
You  know  how  that  child  tosses  and  kicks  about 
in  the  night.  You  never  can  tell  where  his  head's 


AND   OTHER   FAECES.  57 

going  to  be  in  the  morning,  but  you'll  probably 
find  it  at  the  foot  of  the  bed.  I  couldn't  sleep  an 
instant,  my  dear,  if  I  thought  that  boy  was  in  the 
upper  berth ;  for  I'd  be  sure  of  his  tumbling  out 
over  you.  Here,  let  me  lay  him  down."  She  lays 
the  baby  in  the  lower  berth.  "  There  !  Now  get  in, 
Agnes  —  do,  and  leave  me  to  my  struggle  with  the 
attraction  of  gravitation." 

Mrs.  Roberts:  "Oh,  poor  aunty,  how  will  you 
ever  manage  it  ?  I  must  help  you  up." 

Aunt  Mary :  "  No,  my  dear ;  don't  be  foolish. 
But  you  may  go  and  call  the  porter,  if  you  like. 
I  dare  say  he's  used  to  it." 

Mrs.  Roberts  goes  and  speaks  timidly  to  The 
Porter,  who  fails  at  first  to  understand,  then  smiles 
broadly,  accepts  a  quarter  with  a  duck  of  his  head, 
and  comes  forward  to  Aunt  Mary's  side:  "Had 
he  better  give  you  his  hand  to  rest  your  foot  in, 
while  you  spring  up  as  if  you  were  mounting 
horseback  ?  " 

Aunt  Mary,  with  disdain :  "  Spring  !  My  dear, 
I  haven't  sprung  for  a  quarter  of  a  century.  I 
shall  require  every  fibre  in  the  man's  body.  His 
hand,  indeed !  You  get  in  first,  Agnes." 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  I  will,  aunty  dear ;  but "  — • 


58  THE  SLEEPING-CAR 

Aunt  Mary,  sternly:  "Agnes,  do  as  I  say." 
Mrs.  Roberts  crouches  down  on  the  lower  berth. 
"I  don't  choose  that  any  member  of  my  family 
shall  witness  my  contortions.  Don't  you  look." 

Mrs.  Roberts  :  "  No,  no,  aunty." 

Aunt  Mary :  "  Now,  porter,  are  you  strong  ?  " 

Porter :  "  I  used  to  be  porter  at  a  Saratoga  hotel, 
and  carried  up  de  ladies'  trunks  dere." 

Aunt  Mary:  "Then  you'll  do,  I  think.  Now, 
then,  your  knee ;  now  your  back.  There !  And 
very  handsomely  done;  thanks." 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  Are  you  really  in,  Aunt  Mary  ?  " 

Aunt  Mary,  dryly  :  "  Yes.     Good-night." 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  Good-night,  aunty."  After  a 
pause  of  some  minutes.  "  Aunty ! " 

Aunt  Mary  :  "  Well,  what  ?  " 

Mrs.  Roberts:  "Do  you  think  it's  perfectly 
safe  ?  "  She  rises  in  her  berth,  and  looks  up  over 
the  edge  of  the  upper. 

Aunt  Mary :  "  I  suppose  so.  It's  a  well-managed 
road.  They've  got  the  air-brake,  I've  heard,  and 
the  Miller  platform,  and  all  those  horrid  things. 
What  makes  you  introduce  such  unpleasant  sub- 
jects ?  " 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "Oh,  I  don't  mean  accidents.    But, 


AND  OTHER   FAECES.  59 

you  know,  when  you  turn,  it  does  creak  so  awfully. 
I  shouldn't  mind  myself ;  but  the  baby  "  — 

Aunt  Mary:  "Why,  child,  do  you  think  I'm 
going  to  break  through  ?  I  couldn't.  I'm  one  of 
the  lightest  sleepers  in  the  world." 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  Yes,  I  know  you're  a  light 
sleeper ;  but  —  but  it  doesn't  seem  quite  the  same 
thing,  somehow." 

Aunt  Mary:  "But  it  is;  it's  quite  the  same 
thing,  and  you  can  be  perfectly  easy  in  your  mind, 
my  dear.  I  should  be  quite  as  loath  to  break 
through  as  you  would  to  have  me.  Good-night." 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  Yes ;  good-night.  —  Aunty ! " 

Aunt  Mary:  "Well?" 

Mrs.  Roberts:  "You  ought  to  just  see  him, 
how  he's  lying.  He's  a  perfect  log.  Couldn't  you 
just  bend  over,  and  peep  down  at  him  a  moment  ?  " 

Aunt  Mary :  "  Bend  over !  It  would  be  the 
death  of  me.  Good-night." 

Mrs.  Roberts:  "Good-night.  Did  you  put  the 
glass  into  my  bag,  or  yours  ?  I  feel  so  very 
thirsty,  and  I  want  to  go  and  get  some  water.  I'm 
sure  I  don't  know  why  I  should  be  thirsty.  Are 
you,  Aunt  Mary  ?  Ah !  here  it  is.  Don't  disturb 
yourself,  aunty ;  I've  found  it.  It  was  in  my  bag, 


60  THE   SLEEPIXG-CAR 

just  where  I'd  put  it  myself.  But  all  this  trouble 
about  Willis  has  made  me  so  fidgety  that  I  don't 
know  where  anything  is.  And  now  I  don't  know 
how  to  manage  about  the  baby  while  I  go  after  the 
water.  He's  sleeping  soundly  enough  now ;  but  if 
he  should  happen  to  get  into  one  of  his  rolling 
moods,  he  might  tumble  out  on  to  the  floor.  Never 
mind,  aunty,  I've  thought  of  something.  I'll  just 
barricade  him  with  these  bags  and  shawls.  Now, 
old  fellow,  roll  as  much  as  you  like.  If  you  should 
happen  to  hear  him  stir,  aunty,  won't  you  — 
Aunty  !  Oh,  dear !  she's  asleep  already ;  and  what 
shall  I  do  ?  "  While  Mrs.  Roberts  continues  talk- 
ing, various  notes  of  protest,  profane  and  other- 
wise, make  themselves  heard  from  different  berths. 
"  I  know.  I'll  make  a  bold  dash  for  the  water, 
and  be  back  in  an  instant,  baby.  Now,  don't  you 
move,  you  little  rogue."  She  runs  to  the  water- 
tank  at  the  end  of  the  car,  and  then  back  to  her 
berth.  "Now,  baby,  here's  mamma  again.  Are 
you  all  right,  mamma's  own  ?  "  A  shaggy  head 
and  bearded  face  are  thrust  from  the  curtains  of 
the  next  berth. 

The   Stranger:    " Look    here,   ma'am.     I   don't 
want  to   be  disagreeable  about  this   thing,  and  I 


AND   OTHER   FAECES.  61 

hope  you  won't  take  any  offence ;  but  the  fact  is, 
I'm  half  dead  for  want  of  sleep,  and  if  you'll  only 
keep  quiet  now  a  little  while,  I'll  promise  not  to 
speak  above  my  breath  if  ever  I  find  you  on  a 
sleeping-car  after  you've  come  straight  through 
from  San  Francisco,  day  and  night,  and  not  been 
able  to  get  more  than  about  a  quarter  of  your 
usual  allowance  of  rest  —  I  will  indeed." 

Mrs.  Roberts:  "Fin  very  sorry  that  I've  dis- 
turbed you,  and  I'll  try  to  be  more  quiet.  I 
didn't  suppose  I  was  speaking  so  loud;  but  the 
cars  keep  up  such  a  rattling  that  you  never  can 
tell  how  loud  you  are  speaking.  Did  I  under- 
stand you  to  say  that  you  were  from  California  ?  " 

The  Calif  ornian  :  "  Yes,  ma'am." 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  San  Francisco  ?  " 

The  Calif  ornian :  "  Yes,  ma'am." 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  Thanks.  It's  a  terribly  long 
journey,  isn't  it?  I  know  quite  how  to  feel  for 
you.  I've  a  brother  myself  coming  qji.  In  fact, 
we  expected  him  before  this."  She  scans  his  face 
as  sharply  as  the  lamplight  will  allow,  and  con- 
tinues, after  a  brief  hesitation.  "  It's  always  such 
a  silly  question  to  ask  a  person,  and  I  suppose 
San  Francisco  is  a  large  place,  with  a  great  many 


62  THE   SLEEPING-CAB 

people  always  coming  and  going,  so  that  it  would 
be  only  one  chance  in  a  thousand  if  you  did." 

The  Calif ornian,  patiently:  "Did  what, 
ma'am  ?  " 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  Oh,  I  was  just  wondering  if  it 
was  possible  —  but  of  course,  it  isn't,  and  it's  very 
flat  to  ask — that-  you'd  ever  happened  to  meet 
my  brother  there.  His  name  is  Willis  Campbell." 

The  Californian,  with  more  interest :  "  Camp- 
bell ?  Campbell  ?  Yes,  I  know  a  man  of  that 
name.  But  I  disremember  his  first  name.  Little 
low  fellow  — pretty  chunky  ?  " 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  I  don't  know.  Do  you  mean 
short  and  stout?" 

The  Californian :  "  Yes,  ma'am." 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  I'm  sure  I  can't  tell.  It's  a 
great  many  years  since  he  went  out  there,  and 
I've  never  seen  him  in  all  that  time.  I  thought 
if  you  did  happen  to  know  him —  He's  a 
lawyer." 

The  Californian:  "It's  quite  likely  I  know 
him ;  and  in  the  morning,  ma'am  "  — 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  Oh,  excuse  me.  I'm  very  sorry 
to  have  kept  you  so  long  awake  with  my  silly 
questions." 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  63 

The  Man  in  the  Upper  Berth :  "  Don't  apologize, 
madam.  I'm  not  a  Californian  myself,  but  I'm  an 
orphan,  and  away  from  home,  and  I  thank  you,  on 
behalf  of  all  our  fellow-passengers,  for  the  mental 
refreshment  that  your  conversation  has  afforded 
us.  /  could  lie  here,  and  listen  to  it  all  night ; 
but  there  are  invalids  in  some  of  these  berths, 
and  perhaps  on  their  account  it  will  be  as  well  to 
defer  everything  till  the  morning,  as  our  friend 
suggests.  Allow  me  to  wish  you  pleasant  dreams, 
madam." 

The  Californian,  while  Mrs.  Roberts  shrinks 
back  under  the  curtain  of  her  berth  in  dismay,  and 
stammers  some  inaudible  excuse,  slowly  emerges 
full  length  from  his  berth :  "  Don't  you  mind  me, 
ma'am;  I've  got  everything  but  my  boots  and 
coat  on.  Now,  then,"  standing  beside  the  berth, 
and  looking  in  upon  the  man  in  the  upper  tier. 
"You!  Do  you  know  that  this  is  a  lady  you're 
talking  to?" 

The  Upper  Berth:  "By  your  voice  and  your 
shaggy  personal  appearance  I  shouldn't  have  taken 
you  for  a  lady  —  no,  sir.  But  the  light  is  very 
imperfect ;  you  may  be  a  bearded  lady." 

The    Californian:    "You  never  mind  about  my 


64  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

looks.  The  question  is,  Do  you  want  your  head 
rapped  up  against  the  side  of  this  car  ?  " 

The  Upper  Berth :  "  With  all  the  frankness  of 
your  own  Pacific  Slope,  no." 

Mrs.  Roberts,  hastily  re-appearing :  "  Oh,  no, 
no,  don't  hurt  him!  He's  not  to  blame.  I  was 
wrong  to  keep  on  talking.  Oh,  please  don't  hurt 
him ! " 

The  Californian  to  The  Upper  Berth:  "  You 
hear  ?  Well,  now,  don't  you  speak  another  word 
to  that  lady  to-night.  Just  go  on,  ma'am,  and  free 
your  mind  on  any  little  matter  you  like.  /  don't 
want  any  sleep.  How  long  has  your  brother  been 
in  California  ?  " 

Mrs.  Roberts:  "Oh,  don't  let's  talk  about*  it 
now ;  I  don't  want  to  talk  about  it.  I  thought  —  I 
thought  —  Good-night.  Oh,  dear  !  I  didn't  sup- 
pose I  was  making  so  much  trouble.  I  didn't 
mean  to  disturb  anybody.  I "  —  Mrs.  Roberts 
gives  way  to  the  excess  of  her  confusion  and  mor- 
tification in  a  little  sob,  and  then  hides  her  grief 
behind  the  curtains  of  her  berth.  The  Califor- 
nian slowly  emerges  again  from  his  couch,  and 
stands  beside  it,  looking  in  upon  the  man  in  the 
berth  above. 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  65 

The  Calif ornian :  "  For  half  a  cent  I  would  rap 
your  head  up  against  that  wall.  Making  the  lady 
cry,  and  getting  me  so  mad  I  can't  sleep !  Now 
see  here,  you  just  apologize.  You  beg  that  lady's 
pardon,  or  I'll  have  you  out  of  there  before 
you  know  yourself."  Cries  of  "  Good !  "  "  That's 
right ! "  and  "  Make  him  show  himself !  "  hail 
Mrs.  Roberts^  champion,  and  heads,  more  or  less 
dishevelled,  are  thrust  from  every  berth.  Mrs. 
Roberts  remains  invisible  and  silent,  and  the  loud 
and  somewhat  complicated  respiration  of  her  Aunt 
makes  itself  heard  in  the  general  hush  of  expect- 
ancy. A  remark  to  the  effect  that  "  The  old  lady 
seems  to  enjoy  her  rest "  achieves  a  facile  ap- 
plause. The  Californian  again  addresses  the  cul- 
prit. "  Come,  now,  what  do  you  say  ?  I'll  give 
you  just  one-half  a  minute." 

Mrs.  Roberts  from  her  shelter:  "Oh,  please, 
please  don't  make  him  say  anything !  It  was  very 
trying  in  me  to  keep  him  awake,  and  I  know  he 
didn't  mean  any  offence.  Oh,  do  let  him  be  ! " 

The  Californian :  "  You  hear  that  ?  You  stay 
quiet  the  rest  of  the  time  ;  and  if  that  lady  chooses 
to  keep  us  all  awake  the  whole  night,  don't  you 
say  a  word,  or  I'll  settle  with  you  in  the  morning." 


66  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

Loud  and  continued  applause,  amidst  which  The 
Californian  turns  from  the  man  in  the  berth 
before  him,  and  restores  order  by  marching  along 
the  aisle  of  the  car  in  his  stocking  feet.  The 
heads  vanish  behind  the  curtains.  As  the  laughter 
subsides,  he  returns  to  his  berth,  and  after  a  stare 
up  and  down  the  tranquillized  car,  he  is  about  to 
retire. 

A  Voice:  "Oh,  don't  just  bow!  Speak!"  A 
fresh  burst  of  laughter  greets  this  sally.  The 
Californian  erects  himself  again  with  an  air  of 
bated  wrath,  and  then  suddenly  breaks  into  a 
helpless  laugh. 

The  Californian :  "  Gentlemen,  you're  too  many 
for  me."  He  gets  into  his  berth,  and  after  cries 
of  "Good  for  California!"  "You're  all  right, 
William  Nye ! "  and  "  You're  several  ahead  yet !  " 
the  occupants  of  the  different  berths  gradually 
relapse  into  silence,  and  at  last,  as  the  car  lunges 
onward  through  the  darkness,  nothing  is  heard  but 
the  rhythmical  clank  of  the  machinery,  with  now 
and  then  a  burst  of  audible  slumber  from  Mrs. 
Roberts's  Aunt  Mary. 


AND   OTHER   FAECES.  67 


II. 


AT  Worcester,  where  the  train  has  made  the  usual 
stop,  The  Porter,  with  his  lantern  on  his  arm, 
enters  the  car,  preceding  a  gentleman  somewhat 
anxiously  smiling ;  his  nervous  speech  contrasts 
painfully  with  the  business-like  impassiveness 
of  The  Porter,  who  refuses,  with  an  air  of  in- 

-  credulity,  to  enter  into  the  confidences  which  the 
gentleman  seems  reluctant  to  bestow. 

Mr.  Edward  Roberts :  "  This  is  the  Governor 
Marcy,  isn't  it  ?  " 

The  Porter:  "Yes,  sah." 

Mr.  Roberts:  "Came  on  from  Albany,  and  not 
from  New  York  ?  " 

The  Porter:  "Yes,  sah,  it  did." 

Mr.  Roberts :  "  Ah !  it  must  be  all  right.     I "  — 

The  Porter :  "  Was  your  wife  expecting  you  to 
come  on  board  here  ?  " 

Mr.  Roberts:  "Well,  no,  not  exactly.  She  was 
expecting  me  to  meet  her  at  Boston.  But  I"  — 


68  THE  SLEEPING-CAR 

struggling  to  give  the  situation  dignity,  but  fail- 
ing, and  throwing  himself,  with  self-convicted  silli- 
ness, upon  The  Porter's  mercy.  "The  fact  is,  I 
thought  I  would  surprise  her  by  joining  her 
here." 

The  Porter,  refusing  to  have  any  mercy :  "  Oh ! 
How  did  you  expect  to  find  her  ?  " 

Mr.  Roberts:  "Well  —  well  —  I  don't  know.  I 
didn't  consider."  He  looks  down  the  aisle  in 
despair  at  the  close-drawn  curtains  of  the  berths, 
and  up  at  the  dangling  hats  and  bags  and  bonnets, 
and  down  at  the  chaos  of  boots  of  both  sexes  on 
the  floor.  "  I  don't  know  hoio  I  expected  to  find 
her."  Mr.  Roberts's  countenance  falls,  and  he 
visibly  sinks  so  low  in  his  own  esteem  and  an 
imaginary  public  opinion  that  The  Porter  begins 
to  have  a  little  compassion. 

The  Porter :  "  Dey's  so  many  ladies  on  board  / 
couldn't  find  her." 

Mr.  Roberts :  "  Oh,  no,  no !  of  course  not.  I 
didn't  expect  that." 

The  Porter :  "  Don't  like  to  go  routing  'em  all 
up,  you  know.  I  wouldn't  be  allowed  to." 

Mr.  Roberts:  "I  don't  ask  it;  that  would  be 
preposterous." 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  69 

The  Porter:  "What  sort  of  looking  lady  was 
she  ?  " 

Mr.  Roberts  :  "  Well,  I  don't  know,  really.  Not 
very  tall,  rather  slight,  blue  eyes.  I  —  I  don't 
know  what  you'd  call  her  nose.  And  —  stop  !  Oh, 
yes,  she  had  a  child  with  her,  a  little  boy.  Yes  ! " 

The  Porter,  thoughtfully  looking  down  the  aisle : 
"Dey  was  three  ladies  had  children.  I  didn't 
notice  whether  dey  was  boys  or  girls,  or  what  dey 
was.  Didn't  have  anybody  with  her  ?  " 

Mr.  Roberts  :    "  No,  no.     Only  the  child." 

The  Porter :  "  Well,  I  don't  know  what  you  are 
going  to  do,  sah.  It  won't  be  a  great  while  now 
till  morning,  you  know.  Here  comes  the  conduct- 
or. Maybe  he'll  know  what  to  do."  Mr.  Roberts 
makes  some  futile,  inarticulate  attempts  to  pre- 
vent The  Porter  from  laying  the  case  before  The 
Conductor,  and  then  stands  guiltily  smiling,  over- 
whelmed with  the  hopeless  absurdity  of  his  posi- 
tion. 

The  Conductor,  entering  the  car,  and  stopping 
before  The  Porter,  and  looking  at  Mr.  Roberts. 
"  Gentleman  want  a  berth  ?  " 

The  Porter,  grinning:  "Well,  no,  sah.  He's 
lookin'  for  his  wife." 


70  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

The  Conductor,  with  suspicion :  "  Is  she  aboard 
this  car  ?  " 

Mr.  Roberts,  striving  to  propitiate  The  Conductor 
by  a  dastardly  amiability :  "  Oh,  yes,  yes.  There's 
no  mistake  about  the  car  —  the  Governor  Marcy. 
She  telegraphed  the  name  just  before  you  left 
Albany,  so  that  I  could  find  her  at  Boston  in  the 
morning.  Ah ! " 

The  Conductor:  " At  Boston?"  Sternly:  "Then 
what  are  you  trying  to  find  her  at  Worcester  in  the 
middle  of  the  night  for  ?  " 

Mr.  Roberts :  "  Why  —  I  —  that  is  "  — 

The  Porter,  taking  compassion  on  Mr.  Roberts's 
inability  to  continue :  "  Says  he  wanted,  to  sur- 
prise her." 

Mr.  Roberts:  "Ha  —  yes,  exactly.  A  little 
caprice,  you  know." 

The  Conductor:  "Well,  that  may  all  be  so." 
Mr.  Roberts  continues  to  smile  in  agonized  helpless- 
ness against  The  Conductor's  injurious  tone,  which 
becomes  more  and  more  offensively  patronizing. 
"  But  J  can't  do  anything  for  you.  Here  are  all 
these  people  asleep  in  their  berths,  and  I  can't  go 
round  waking  them  up  because  you  want  to  sur- 
prise your  wife." 


AND   OTHER   FAUCES.  71 

Mr.  Roberts :  "  No,  no  ;  of  course  not.  I  never 
thought " — 

The  Conductor:  "My  advice  to  you  is  to  have 
a  berth  made  up,  and  go  to  bed  till  we  get  to 
Boston,  and  surprise  your  wife  by  telling  her  what 
you  tried  to  do." 

Mr.  Roberts,  unable  to  resent  the  patronage 
of  this  suggestion:  "Well,  I  don't  know  but  I 
will." 

The  Conductor,  going  out :  "  The  porter  will 
make  up  the  berth  for  you." 

Mr.  Roberts  to  The  Porter,  who  is  about  to  pull 
down  the  upper  berth  over  a  vacant  seat :  "  Ah ! 
Er  —  I  —  I  don't  think  I'll  trouble  you  to  make  it 
up ;  it's  so  near  morning  now.  Just  bring  me  a 
pillow,  and  I'll  try  to  get  a  nap  without  lying 
down."  He  takes  the  vacant  seat. 

The  Porter:  "All  right,  sah."  He  goes  to  the 
end  of  the  car,  and  returns  with  a  pillow. 

Mr.  Roberts :  "  Ah  —  porter  !  " 

The  Porter:  "Yes,  sah." 

Mr.  Roberts :  "  Of  course  you  didn't  notice  ;  but 
you  don't  think  you  did  notice  who  was  in  that 
berth  yonder  ?  " 

He  indicates  a  certain  berth. 


72  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

The  Porter :  "  Dat's  a  gen'leman  in  dat  berth,  I 
think,  sah." 

Mr.  Roberts,  astutely :  "  There's  a  bonnet  hang- 
ing from  the  hook  at  the  top.  I'm  not  sure,  but 
it  looks  like  my  wife's  bonnet." 

The  Porter,  evidently  shaken  by  this  reasoning, 
but  recovering  his  firmness  :  "  Yes,  sah.  But  you 
can't  depend  upon  de  ladies  to  hang  deir  bonnets 
on  de  right  hook.  Jes'  likely  as  not  dat  lady's 
took  de  hook  at  de  foot  of  her  berth  instead  o' 
de  head.  Sometimes  dey  takes  both." 

Mr.  Roberts :  "  Ah  !  "   After  a  pause.    "  Porter !  " 

The  Porter:  "Yes,  sah." 

Mr.  Roberts :  "  You  wouldn't  feel  justified  in 
looking  ?  " 

The  Porter :  "  I  couldn't,  sah ;  I  couldn't,  in- 
deed." 

Mr.  Roberts,  reaching  his  left  hand  towards  The 
Porter's,  and  pressing  a  half-dollar  into  his  in- 
stantly responsive  palm :  "  But  there's  nothing  to 
prevent  my  looking  if  I  feel  perfectly  sure  of  the 
bonnet  ?  " 

The  Porter :  "  N-no,  sah." 

Mr.  Roberts:  "All  right." 

The   Porter  retires  to  the  end  of  the  car,  and 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  73 

resumes  the  work  of  polishing  the  passengers' 
boots.  After  an  interval  of  quiet,  Mr.  Roberts 
rises,  and,  looking  about  him  with  what  he  feels  to 
be  melodramatic  stealth,  approaches  the  suspected 
berth.  He  unloops  the  curtain  with  a  trembling 
hand,  and  peers  ineffectually  in ;  he  advances  his 
"head  farther  and  farther  into  the  darkened  recess, 
and  then  suddenly  dodges  back  again,  with  The 
Californian  hanging  to  his  neckcloth  with  one 
hand. 

The  Californian,  savagely:  "What  do  you 
want  ?  " 

Mr.  Roberts,  struggling  and  breathless :  "I  — 
I  —  I  want  my  wife." 

The  Californian :  "  Want  your  wife  !  Have  / 
got  your  wife  ?  " 

Mr.  Roberts  :  "  No  —  ah  —  that  is  —  ah,  excuse 
me  —  I  thought  you  were  my  wife." 

The  Californian,  getting  out  of  the  berth,  but  at 
the  same  time  keeping  hold  of  Mr.  Roberts: 
"  Thought  I  was  your  wife  !  Do  I  look  like  your 
wife  ?  You  can't  play  that  on  me,  old  man. 
Porter !  conductor  !  n 

Mr.  Roberts,  agonized :  "  Oh,  I  beseech  you, 
my  dear  sir,  don't  —  don't !  I  can  explain  it  — 


74  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

I  can  indeed.  I  know  it  has  an  ugly  look  ;  but 
if  you  will  allow  me  two  words  —  only  two 
words  "  — 

Mrs.  Roberts,  suddenly  parting  the  curtain  of 
her  berth,  and  springing  out  into  the  aisle,  with 
her  hair  wildly  dishevelled :  "  Edward !  " 

Mr.  Roberts :  "  Oh,  Agnes,  explain  to  this 
gentleman  !  "  Imploringly :  "  Don't  you  know 
me  ?  " 

A  Voice :  "  Make  him  show  you  the  strawberry 
mark  on  his  left  arm." 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  Edward  !  Edward  !  "  The  Call- 
fornian  mechanically  loses  his  grip,  and  they  fly 
into  each  other's  embrace.  "  Where  did  you  come 
from  ?  " 

A  Voice :  "  Centre  door,  left  hand,  one  back." 

The  Conductor,  returning  with  his  lantern : 
"Hallo!  What's  the  matter  here?" 

A  Voice :  "  Train  robbers !  Throw  up  your 
hands  !  Tell  the  express-messenger  to  bring  his 
safe."  The  passengers  emerge  from  their  berths 
in  various  deshabille  and  bewilderment. 

The  Conductor  to  Mr.  Roberts :  "  Have  you 
been  making  all  this  row,  waking  up  my  passen- 
gers?" 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  75 

The  Californian :  "  No,  sir,  lie  hasn't.  I've 
been  making  this  row.  This  gentleman  was  peace- 
ably looking  for  his  wife,  and  I  misunderstood 
him.  You  want  to  say  anything  to  me  ?  " 

The  Conductor,  silently  taking  The  Californian' s 
measure  with  his  eye,  as  he  stands  six  feet  in  his 
stockings  :  "If  I  did  I'd  get  the  biggest  brakeman 
I  could  find  to  do  it  for  me.  Pve  got  nothing  to 
say  except  that  I  think  you'd  better  all  go  back  to 
bed  again."  He  goes  out,  and  the  passengers  dis- 
appear one  by  one,  leaving  the  Robertses  and  The 
Californian  alone. 

The  Californian,  to  Mr.  Roberts  :  "  Stranger,  I'm 
sorry  I  got  you  into  this  scrape." 

Mr.  Roberts:  "Oh,  don't  speak  of  it,  my  dear 
sir.  I'm  sure  we  owe  you  all  sorts  of  apologies, 
which  I  shall  be  most  happy  to  offer  you  at 
my  house  in  Boston,  with  every  needful  explana- 
tion." He  takes  out  his  card,  and  gives  it  to 
The  Californian,  who  looks  at  it,  and  then  looks 
at  Mr.  Roberts  curiously.  "There's  my  address, 
and  I'm  sure  we  shall  both  be  glad  to  have  you 
call." 

Mrs.  Roberts:  "Oh,  yes,  indeed."  The  Califor- 
nian parts  the  curtains  of  his  berth  to  re-enter 


76  THE   SLEEPING-CAK 

it.  "  Good-night,  sir,  and  I  assure  you  we  shall 
do  nothing  more  to  disturb  you  —  shall  we, 
Edward  ?  " 

Mr.  Roberts :  "  No.  And  now,  dear,  I  think 
you'd  better  go  back  to  your  berth." 

Mrs.  Roberts  :  "  I  couldn't  sleep,  and  I  shall  not 
go  back.  Is  this  your  place  ?  I  will  just  rest  my 
head  on  your  shoulder ;  and  we  must  both  be  per- 
fectly quiet.  You've  no  idea  what  a  nuisance  I 
have  been  making  of  myself.  The  whole  car  was 
perfectly  furious  at  me  one  time,  I  kept  talking  so 
loud.  I  don't  know  how  I  came  to  do  it,  but  I 
suppose  it  was  thinking  about  you  and  Willis 
meeting  without  knowing  each  other  made  me 
nervous,  and  I  couldn't  be  still.  I  woke  everybody 
up  with  my  talking,  and  some  of  them  were  quite 
outrageous  in  their  remarks;  but  I  didn't  blame 
them  the  least  bit,  for  I  should  have  been  just  as 
bad.  That  California  gentleman  was  perfectly 
splendid,  though.  I  can  tell  you  he  made  them 
stop.  We  struck  up  quite  a  friendship.  I  told 
him  I  had  a  brother  coming  on  from  California, 
and  he's  going  to  try  to  think  whether  he  knows 
Willis."  Groans  and  inarticulate  protests  make 
themselves  heard  from  different  berths.  "I  de- 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  77 

clare,  I've  got  to  talking  again !  There,  now,  I 
shall  stop,  and  they  won't  hear  another  squeak 
from  me  the  rest  of  the  night."  She  lifts  her  head 
from  her  husband's  shoulder.  "  I  wonder  if  baby 
will  roll  out.  He  does  kick  so  !  And  I  just  sprang 
up  and  left  him  when  I  heard  your  voice,  without 
putting  anything  to  keep  him  in.  I  must  go  and 
have  a  look  at  him,  or  I  never  can  settle  down. 
No,  no,  don't  you  go,  Edward;  you'll  be  prying 
into  all  the  wrong  berths  in  the  car,  you  poor 
thing  !  You  stay  here,  and  I'll  be  back  in  half  a 
second.  I  wonder  which  is  my  berth.  Ah !  that's 
it ;  I  know  the  one  now."  She  makes  a  sudden 
dash  at  a  berth,  and  pulling  open  the  curtains  is 
confronted  by  the  bearded  visage  of  The  Califor- 
nian.  "Ah!  Ow !  ow !  Edward!  Ah!  I  — I 
beg  your  pardon,  sir  ;  excuse  me  ;  I  didn't  know  it 
was  you.  I  came  for  my  baby." 

The  Calif ornian,  solemnly  :  "  I  haven't  got  any 
baby,  ma'am." 

Mrs.  Roberts  :  "No  —  no  —  I  thought  you  were 
my  baby." 

The  Californian :  "  Perhaps  I  am,  ma'am  ;  I've 
lost  so  much  sleep  I  could  cry,  anyway.  Do  I 
look  like  your  baby  ?  " 


78  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

Mrs.  Eoberts  :  "  No,  no,  you  don't."  In  distress 
that  overcomes  her  mortification.  "  Oh,  where  is 
my  baby  ?  I  left  him  all  uncovered,  and  he'll 
take  his  death  of  cold,  even  if  he  doesn't  roll 
out.  Oh,  Edward,  Edward,  help  me  to  find 
baby  !  " 

Mr.  Roberts,  bustling  aimlessly  about :  "  Yes, 
yes ;  certainly,  my  dear.  But  don't  be  alarmed ; 
we  shall  find  him." 

The  Californian,  getting  out  in  his  stocking 
feet :  "  We  shall  find  him,  ma'am,  if  we  have  to 
search  every  berth  in  this  car.  Don't  you  take  on. 
That  baby's  going  to  be  found  if  he's  aboard  the 
train,  now,  you  bet !  "  He  looks  about  and  then 
tears  open  the  curtains  of  a  berth  at  random. 
"  That  your  baby,  ma'am  ?  " 

Mrs.  Roberts,  flying  upon  the  infant  thus  ex- 
posed. "  Oh,  baby,  baby,  baby  !  I  thought  I  had 
lost  you.  Um  !  um  !  um  !  "  She  clasps  him  in 
her  arms,  and  covers  his  face  and  neck  with 
kisses. 

The  Californian,  as  he  gets  back  into  his  berth, 
sotto  voce  :  "  I  wish  I  had  been  her  baby." 

Mrs.  Roberts,  returning  with  her  husband 
to  his  seat,  and  bringing  the  baby  with  her: 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  79 

"  There !  Did  you  ever  see  such  a  sleeper, 
Edward  ? "  In  her  ecstasy  she  abandons  all 
control  of  her  voice,  and  joyfully  exclaims :  "  He 
has  slept  all  through  this  excitement,  without  a 
wink." 

A  solemn  Voice  from  one  of  the  berths :  "  I 
envy  him."  A  laugh  follows,  in  which  all  the 
passengers  join. 

Mrs.  Roberts,  in  a  hoarse  whisper,  breaking  a 
little  with  laughter :  "  Oh,  my  goodness  !  there  I 
went  again.  But  how  funny !  I  assure  you, 
Edward,  that  if  their  remarks  had  not  been  about 
me,  I  could  have  really  quite  enjoyed  some  of 
them.  I  wish  there  had  been  somebody  here  to 
take  them  down.  And  I  hope  I  shall  see  some  of 
the  speakers  in  the  morning  before —  Edward, 
I've  got  an  idea  ! " 

Mr.  Roberts,  endeavoring  to  teach  his  wife  by 
example  to  lower  her  voice,  which  has  risen  again  : 
"  What  —  what  is  it,  my  dear  ?  " 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  Why,  don't  you  see  ?  How  per- 
fectly ridiculous  it  was  of  me  not  to  think  of  it 
before  !  though  I  did  think  of  it  once,  and  hadn't 
the  courage  to  insist  upon  it.  But  of  course  it  is ; 
and  it  accounts  for  his  being  so  polite  and  kind  to 


80  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

me  through,  all,  and  it's  the  only  thing  that  can. 
Yes,  yes,  it  must  be." 

Mr.  Roberts,  mystified  :  "  What  ?  " 

Mrs.  Roberts  :  "  Willis." 

Mr.  Roberts :  "  Who  ?  " 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  This  Californian." 

Mr.  Roberts:  "Oh!" 

Mrs.  Roberts  :  "  No  stranger  could  have  been  so 
patient,  and  —  and  —  attentive ;  and  I  know  that 
he  recognized  me  from  the  first,  and  he's  just  kept 
it  up  for  a  joke,  so  as  to  surprise  us,  and  have  a 
good  laugh  at  us  when  we  get  to  Boston.  Of  course 
it's  Willis." 

Mr.  Roberts,  doubtfully :  "  Do  you  think  so,  my 
dear  ?  " 

Mrs.  Roberts:  "I  know  it.  Didn't  you  notice 
how  he  looked  at  your  card  ?  And  I  want  you  to 
go  at  once  and  speak  to  him,  and  turn  the  tables 
on  him." 

Mr.  Roberts  :  "I  —  I'd  rather  not,  my  dear." 

Mrs.  Roberts:  "Why,  Edward,  what  can  you 
mean  ?  " 

Mr.  Roberts:  "He's  very  violent.  Suppose  it 
shouldn't  be  Willis  ?  " 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  Nonsense  !     It  is  Willis.     Come, 


• 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  81 

let's  both  go  and  just  tax  him  with  it.  He  can't 
deny  it,  after  all  he's  done  for  me."  She  pulls  her 
reluctant  husband  toward  The  Californian1  s  berth, 
and  they  each  draw  a  curtain.  "  Willis  ! " 

The  Californian,  with  plaintive  endurance: 
"Well,  ma'am?" 

Mrs.  Roberts,  triumphantly :  "  There  !  I  knew 
it  was  you  all  along.  How  could  you  play  such  a 
joke  on  me  ?  " 

The  Californian :  "  I  didn't  know  there'd  been 
any  joke ;  but  I  suppose  there  must  have  been, 
if  you  say  so.  Who  am  I  now,  ma'am  —  you 
husband,  or  your  baby,  or  your  husband's  wife, 
or"  — 

Mrs.  Roberts  :  "  How  funny  you  are  !  You  know 
you're  Willis  Campbell,  my  only  brother.  Now 
don't  try  to  keep  it  up  any  longer,  Willis." 

Voices,  from  various  berths :  "  Give  us  a  rest, 
Willis  !  "  "  Joke's  too  thin,  Willis  !  "  "  You're 
played  out,  Willis  ! "  "  Own  up,  old  fellow  —  own 
up!" 

The  Californian,  issuing  from  his  berth,  and 
walking  up  and  down  the  aisle,  as  before,  till  quiet 
is  restored :  "  I  haven't  got  any  sister,  and  my 
name  ain't  Willis,  and  it  ain't  Campbell.  I'm 


82  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

very  sorry,  because  I'd  like  to  oblige  you  any  way 
I  could." 

Mrs.  Roberts,  in  deep  mortification  :  "  It's  I  who 
ought  to  apologize,  and  I  do  most  humbly.  I 
don't  kno\v  what  to  say;  but  when  I  got  to  think- 
ing about  it,  and  how  kind  you  had  been  to  me, 
and  how  sweet  you  had  been  under  all  my  —  inter- 
ruptions, I  felt  perfectly  sure  that  you  couldn't  be 
a  mere  stranger,  and  then  the  idea  struck  me  that 
you  must  be  my  brother  in  disguise;  and  I  was 
so  certain  of  it  that  I  couldn't  help  just  letting 
you  know  that  we'd  found  you  out,  and  "  — 

Mr.  Roberts,  offering  a  belated  and  feeble  moral 
support :  "  Yes." 

Mrs.  Roberts,  promptly  turning  upon  him  :  "  And 
you  ought  to  have  kept  me  from  making  such  a 
simpleton  of  myself,  Edward." 

The  Californian,  soothingly:  "Well,  ma'am, 
that  ain't  always  so  easy.  A  man  may  mean  well, 
and  yet  not  be  able  to  carry  out  his  intentions. 
But  it's  all  right.  And  I  reckon  we'd  better  try  to 
quiet  down  again,  and  get  what  rest  we  can." 

Mrs.  Roberts  :  "  Why,  yes,  certainly  ;  and  I  will 
try  —  oh,  I  will  try  not  to  disturb  you  again. 
And  if  there's  anything  we  can  do  in  reparation 


AND   OTHER  FAUCES.  83 

after  we  reach.  Boston,  we  shall  be  so  glad  to  do 
it!" 

They  bow  themselves  away,  and  return  to  their 
seat,  while  The  Californian  re-enters  his  berth. 


84  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 


III. 


THE  train  stops  at  Framingham,  and  The  Porter 
comes  in  with  a  passenger,  whom  he  shows  to 
the  seat  opposite  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Roberts. 

The  Porter :  "  You  can  sit  here,  sah.  We'll  be 
in,  in  about  half  an  hour  now.  Hang  up  your  bag 
for  you,  sah  ?  " 

The  Passenger:  "No,  leave  it  on  the  seat  here." 

The  Porter  goes  out,  and  the  Robertses  maintain 
a  dejected  silence.  The  bottom  of  the  bag,  thrown 
carelessly  on  the  seat,  is  toward  the  Robertses,  who 
regard  it  listlessly. 

Mrs.  Roberts,  suddenly  clutching  her  husband's 
arm,  and  hissing  in  his  ear :  "  See  !  "  She  points 
to  the  white  lettering  on  the  bag,  where  the  name 
"Willis  Campbell,  San  Francisco,"  is  distinctly 
legible.  "But  it  can't  be  ;  it  must  be  some  other 
Campbell.  I  can't  risk  it." 

Mr.  Roberts :  "  But  there's  the  name.     It  would 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  85 

be  very  strange  if  there  were  two  people  from 
San  Francisco  of  exactly  the  same  name.  /  will 
speak." 

Mrs.  Roberts,  as  wildly  as  one  can  in  whisper : 
"  No,  no,  I  can't  let  you.  We've  made  ourselves 
the  laughing-stock  of  the  whole  car  already  with 
our  mistakes,  and  I  can't  go  on.  I  would  rather 
perish  than  ask  him.  You  don't  suppose  it  could 
be  ?  No,  it  couldn't.  There  may  be  twenty 
Willis  Campbells  in  San  Francisco,  and  there 
probably  are.  Do  you  think  he  looks  like  me  ? 
He  has  a  straight  nose;  but  you  can't  tell  any- 
thing about  the  lower  part  of  his  face,  the  beard 
covers  it  so ;  and  I  can't  make  out  the  color 
of  his  eyes  by  this  light.  But  of  course,  it's  all 
nonsense.  Still,  if  it  should  be  !  It  would  be 
very  stupid  of  us  to  ride  all  the  way  from  Fram- 
ingham  to  Boston  with  that  name  staring  one  in. 
the  eyes.  I  wish  he  would  turn  it  away.  If  it 
really  turned  out  to  be  Willis,  he  would  think  we 
were  awfully  stiff  and  cold.  But  I  can't  help  it ; 
I  can't  go  attacking  every  stranger  I  see,  and 
accusing  him  of  being  my  brother.  No,  no,  I 
can't,  and  I  won't,  and  that's  all  about  it."  She 
leans  forward,  and  addresses  the  stranger  with 


8b  THE   SLEEPING-CAR. 

sudden  sweetness.  "Excuse  me,  sir,  but  I  am 
very  much  interested  by  the  name  on  your  bag. 
Not  that  I  think  you  are  even  acquainted  with 
him,  and  there  are  probably  a  great  many  of  them 
there ;  but  your  coming  from  the  same  city,  and 
all,  does  seem  a  little  queer,  and  I  hope  you  won't 
think  me  intrusive  in  speaking  to  you,  because  if 
you  should  happen,  by  the  thousandth  of  a  chance, 
to  be  the  right  one,  I  should  be  so  happy  !  " 

Campbell :  "  The  right  what,  madam  ?  " 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  The  right  Willis  Campbell." 

Campbell :  "  I  hope  I'm  not  the  wrong  one ; 
though  after  a  week's  pull  on  the  railroad  it's 
pretty  hard  for  a  man  to  tell  which  Willis  Camp- 
bell he  is.  May  I  ask  if  your  Willis  Campbell 
had  friends  in  Boston  ?  " 

Mrs.  Roberts,  eagerly :  "  He  had  a  sister  and  a 
brother-in-law  and  a  nephew." 

Campbell:  "Name  of  Roberts?" 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  Every  one." 

Campbell :  "  Then  you're  "  — 

Mrs.  Roberts,  ecstatically  :  "  Agnes." 

Campbell :  "  And  he's  "  — 

Mrs.  Roberts  :  "Mr.  Roberts  !  " 

Campbell :  "  And  the  baby's  "  — 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  87 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  Asleep  ! " 

Campbell :  "  Then  I  am  the  right  one." 

Mrs.   Roberts:    "Oh,    Willis!    Willis!  .Willis! 

To   think   of    our   meeting    in   this    way ! "     She 

kisses  and  embraces  him,  while  Mr.  Roberts  shakes 

one    of    his    hands   which    he    finds    disengaged. 

'"How  in  the  world  did  it  happen?" 

Campbell:  "Oh,  I  found  myself  a  little  ahead 
of  time,  and  I  stopped  off  with  an  old  friend  of 
mine  at  Framingham ;  I  didn't  want  to  disappoint 
you  when  you  came  to  meet  this  train,  or  get  you 
up  last  night  at  midnight." 

Mrs.  Roberts:  "And  I  was  in  Albany,  and  I've 
been  moving  heaven  and  earth  to  get  home  be- 
fore you  arrived ;  and  Edward  came  aboard  at 
Worcester  to  surprise  me,  and  —  Oh,  you've  never 
seen  the  baby !  I'll  run  right  and  get  him  this 
instant,  just  as  he  is,  and  bring  him.  Edward, 
you  be  explaining  to  Willis —  Oh,  my  good- 
ness !  "  looking  wildly  about.  "  I  don't  remember 
the  berth,  and  I  shall  be  sure  to  wake  up  that  poor 
California  gentleman  again.  What  shall  I  do  ?  " 

Campbell :  "  What  California  gentleman  ?  " 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  Oh,  somebody  we've  been  stir- 
ring up  the  whole  blessed  night.  First  I  took 


88  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

him  for  baby,  and  then  Edward  took  him  for  me, 
and  then  I  took  him  for  baby  again,  and  then  we 
both  took  him  for  you.'7 

Campbell :  "  Did  he  look  like  any  of  us  ?  " 

Mrs.  Roberts  :  "  Like  us  ?  He's  eight  feet  tall, 
if  he's  an  inch,  in  his  stockings  —  and  he's  always 
in  them  —  and  he  has  a  long  black  beard  and 
mustaches,  and  he's  very  lanky,  and  stoops  over  a 
good  deal;  but  he's  just  as  lovely  as  he  can  be, 
and  live,  and  he's  been  as  kind  and  patient  as 
twenty  Jobs." 

Campbell:  "Speaks  in  a  sort  of  soft,  slow 
grind  ?  " 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  Yes." 

Campbell :  "  Gentle  and  deferential  to  ladies  ?  " 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "As  pie." 

Campbell:  "It's  Tom  Goodall.  I'll  have  him 
out  of  there  in  half  a  second.  I  want  you  to  take 
him  home  with  you,  Agnes.  He's  the  best  fellow 
in  the  world.  Which  is  his  berth  ?  " 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  Don't  ask  me,  Willis.  But  if 
you'd  go  for  baby,  you'll  be  sure  to  find  him." 

Mr.  Roberts,  timidly  indicating  a  berth:  "I 
think  that's  the  one." 

Campbell,  plunging  at  it,  and  pulling  the  cur- 
tains open  :  "You,  old  Tom  Goodall !  " 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  89 

The  Californian,  appearing :  "  I  ain't  any  Tom 
Goodall.  My  name's  Abram  Sawyer." 

Campbell,  falling  back :  "  Well,  sir,  you're 
right.  I'm  awfully  sorry  to  disturb  you;  but, 
from  my  sister's  description  here,  I  felt  certain 
you  must  be  my  old  friend  Tom  Goodall." 

The  Californian :  "  I  ain't  surprised  at  it.  I'm 
only  surprised  I  ain't  Tom  Goodall.  I've  been  a 
baby  twice,  and  I've  been  a  man's  wife  once,  and 
once  I've  been  a  long-lost  brother." 

Campbell,  laughing:  "Oh,  they've  found  him. 
I'm  the  long-lost  brother." 

The  Calif  ornian,  sleepily  :  "  Has  she  found  the 
other  one  ?  " 

Campbell :  "  Yes ;  all  right,  I  believe." 

The  Calif  ornian :  "  Has  he  found  what  he 
wanted  ?  " 

Campbell :  "  Yes ;  we're  all  together  here." 
The  Californian  makes  a  movement  to  get  into 
bed  again.  "Oh,  don't!  You'd  better  make  a 
night  of  it  now.  It's  almost  morning  anyway. 
We  want  you  to  go  home  with  us,  and  Mrs. 
Roberts  will  give  you  a  bed  at  her  house,  and  let 
you  sleep  a  week." 

The  Californian :  "  Well,  I  reckon  you're  right, 


90  THE  SLEEPING-CAR 

stranger.  I  seem  to  be  in  the  hands  of  Providence 
to-night,  anyhow."  He  pulls  on  his  boots  and 
coat,  and  takes  his  seat  beside  Campbell.  "  I 
reckon  there  ain't  any  use  in  righting  against 
Providence." 

Mrs.  Roberts,  briskly,  as  if  she  had  often  tried 
it  and  failed:  "Oh,  not  the  least  in  the  world. 
I'm  sure  it  was  all  intended ;  and  if  you  had 
turned  out  to  be  Willis  at  last,  I  should  be  certain 
of  it.  What  surprises  me  is  that  you  shouldn't 
turn  out  to  be  anybody,  after  all." 

The  Calif  ornian:  "Yes,  it  is  kind  of  curious. 
But  I  couldn't  help  it.  I  did  my  best." 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  Oh,  don't  speak  of  it.  We  are 
the  ones  who  ought  to  apologize.  But  if  you  only 
had  been  somebody,  it  would  have  been  such  a 
good  joke !  We  could  always  have  had  such 
a  laugh  over  it,  don't  you  see  ?  " 

The  Calif  ornian:  "Yes,  ma'am,  it  would  have 
been  funny.  But  I  hope  you've  enjoyed  it  as  it 
is." 

Mrs.  Roberts:  "Oh,  very  much,  thanks  to  you. 
Only  I  can't  seem  to  get  reconciled  to  your  not 
being  anybody,  after  all.  You  must  at  least  be 
some  one  we've  heard  about,  don't  you  think  ? 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  91 

It's  so  strange  that  you  and  Willis  never  even 
met.  Don't  you  think  you  have  some  acquaint- 
ances in  common  ?  " 

Campbell:  "Look  here,  Agnes,  do  you  always 
shout  at  the  top  of  your  voice  in  this  way  when 
you  converse  in  a  sleeping-car  ?  " 

Mrs.  Roberts  :  "  Was  I  talking  loud  again  ? 
Well,  you  can't  help  it,  if  you  want  to  make  peo- 
ple hear  you." 

Campbell:  "But  there  must  be  a  lot  of  them 
who  don't  want  to  hear  you.  I  wonder  that  the 
passengers  who  are  not  blood-relations  don't 
throw  things  at  you  —  boots  and  hand-bags  and 
language." 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  Why,  that's  what  they've  been 
doing  —  language  at  least  —  and  I'm  only  sur- 
prised they're  not  doing  it  now." 

The  Californian,  rising :  "  They'd  better  not, 
ma'am."  He  patrols  the  car  from  end  to  end, 
and  quells  some  rising  murmurs,  halting  at  the 
rebellious  berths  as  he  passes. 

Mrs.  Roberts,  enraptured  by  his  championship : 
"Oh,  he  must  be  some  connection."  She  glances 
through  the  window.  "I  do  believe  that  was 
Newton,  or  Newtonville,  or  West  Newton,  or 


92  THE  SLEEPING-CAR 

Newton  Centre.  I  must  run  and  wake  up 
baby,  and  get  him  dressed.  I  sha'n't  want  to 
wait  an  instant  after  we  get  in.  Why,  we're 
slowing  up  !  Why,  I  do .  believe  we're  there  ! 
Edward,  we're  there !  Only  fancy  being  there 
already  !  " 

Mr.  Roberts :  "  Yes,  my  dear.  Only  we're  not 
quite  there  yet.  Hadn't  we  better  call  your  Aunt 
Mary  ?  » 

Mrs.  Roberts  :  "  I'd  forgotten  her." 
Campbell :  "  Is  Aunt  Mary  with  you  ?  " 
Mrs.  Roberts  :  "To  be  sure  she  is.     Didn't  I  tell 
you  ?     She  came  on  expressly  to  meet  you." 

Campbell,  starting  up  impetuously:  " Which 
berth  is  she  in  ?  " 

Mrs.  Roberts  :  "  Right  over  baby." 
Campbell :  "  And  which  berth  is  baby  in  ?  n 
'  Mrs.  Roberts,   distractedly  :    "  Why,  that's  just 
what  I  can't  tell.     It  was  bad  enough  when  they 
were  all  filled  up ;  but  now,  since  the  people  have 
begun  to  come  out  of  them,  and  some  of  them  are 
made  into  seats,  I  can't  telL" 

The  Californian  :  "  I'll  look  for  you,  ma'am.  I 
should  like  to  wake  up  all  the  wrong  passengers 
on  this  ear.  I'd  take  a  pleasure  in  it.  If  you 


AND   OTHER  FARCES.  93 

could  make  sure  of  any  berth  that  ain't  the  one, 
I'd  begin  on  that." 

Mrs.  Roberts :  (l  I  can't  even  be  sure  of  the 
wrong  one.  No,  no  ;  you  mustn't  "  —  The  Cali- 
fornian  moves  away,  and  pauses  in  front  of  one 
of  the  berths,  looking  back  inquiringly  at  Mrs. 
Roberts.  «  Oh,  don't  ask  me !  I  can't  tell."  To 
Campbell :  "  Isn't  he  amusing  ?  So  like  all  those 
Calif ornians  that  one  reads  of  —  so  chivalrous  and 
so  humorous  ! " 

Aunt  Mary,  thrusting  her  head  from  the  curtains 
of  the  berth  before  which  The  Californian  is 
standing :  "  Go  along  with  you !  What  do  you 
want  ?  " 

The  Californian  :  "  Aunt  Mary." 

Aunt  Mary :  "  Go  away.     Aunt  Mary,  indeed ! " 

Mrs.  Roberts,  turning  toward  her,  followed  by 
Campbell  and  Mr.  Roberts :  "  Why,  Aunt  Mary, 
it  is  you  !  And  here's  Willis,  and  here's  Edward." 

Aunt  Mary :  "  Nonsense  !  How  did  they  get 
aboard  ?  " 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  Edward  came  on  at  Worcester, 
and  Willis  at  Framingham,  to  surprise  me." 

Aunt  Mary:  "And  a  very  silly  performance. 
Let  them  wait  till  I'm  dressed,  and  then  I'll  talk 


94  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

to  them.  Send  for  the  porter."  She  withdraws 
her  head  behind  the  curtain,  and  then  thrusts  it 
out  again.  "  And  who,  pray,  may  this  be  ?  "  She 
indicates  The  Californian. 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  Oh,  a  friend  of  ours  from  Cali- 
fornia, who's  been  so  kind  to  us  all  night,  and 
who's  going  home  with  us." 

Aunt  Mary :  "  Another  ridiculous  surprise,  I 
suppose.  But  he  shall  not  surprise  me.  Young 
man,  isn't  your  name  Sawyer  ?  " 

The  Californian  :  "  Yes,  ma'am," 

Aunt  Mary:  "Abram?" 

The  Californian:  "Abram  Sawyer.  You're 
right  there,  ma'am." 

Mrs.  Roberts  :  "  Oh  !  oh  !  I  knew  it !  I  knew 
that  he  must  be  somebody  belonging  to  us.  Oh, 
thank  you,  aunty,  for  thinking  "  — 

Aunt  Mary:  " Don't  be  absurd,  Agnes.  Then 
you're  my  "  — 

A  Voice  from  one  of  the  berths :  "  Long-lost 
stepson.  Found !  found  at  last !  " 

The  Californian  looks  vainly  round  in  an 
endeavor  to  identify  the  speaker,  and  then  turns 
again  to  Aunt  Mary. 

Aunt  Mary:  "Weren't  your  parents  from 
Bath  ?  " 


AND   OTHER   FAECES.  95 

The  Californian,  eagerly  :  "  Both  of  'em,  ma'am 
-—  both  of  'em." 

The  Voice  :  "  0  my  prophetic  soul,  my  uncle  !  " 

Aunt  Mary :  "  Then  you're  my  old  friend  Kate 
Harris's  daughter  ?  " 

The  Californian  :  "  I  might  be  her  son,  ma'am ; 
but  my  mother's  name  was  Susan  Wakeman." 

Aunt  Mary,  in  sharp  disgust :  "  Call  the  porter, 
please."  She  withdraws  her  head  and  pulls  her 
curtains  together;  the  rest  look  blankly  at  one 
another. 

Campbell :  "  Another  failure,  and  just  when  we 
thought  we  were  sure  of  you.  I  don't  know  what 
we  shall  do  about  you,  Mr.  Sawyer." 

The  Voice  :  "  Adopt  him." 

Campbell :  "  That's  a  good  idea.  We  will  adopt 
you.  You  shall  be  our  adoptive  "  — 

The  Voice  :  "  Baby  boy." 

Another  Voice:  "Wife." 

A  Third  Voice  :  "  Brother." 

A  Fourth  Voice  :  "  Early  friend." 

A  Fifth  Voice  :  "  Kate  Harris's  daughter." 

Campbell,  laying  his  hand  on  The  California's 
shoulder,  and  breaking  into  a  laugh  :  "  Don't  mind 
them.  They  don't  mean  anything.  It's  just  their 


96  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

way.  You  come  home  with  my  sister,  and  spend 
Christmas,  and  let  us  devote  the  rest  of  our  lives 
to  making  your  declining. years  happy." 

Voices:  "Good  for  you,  Willis!"  "We'll  all 
come  !  "  "  No  ceremony  !  "  "  Small  and  early  !  " 

Campbell)  looking  round :  "  We  appear  to  have 
fallen  in  with  a  party  of  dry-goods  drummers.  It 
makes  a  gentleman  feel  like  an  intruder."  The 
train  stops  ;  he  looks  out  of  the  window.  "  We've 
arrived.  Come,  Agnes  ;  come,  Roberts  ;  come,  Mr. 
Sawyer  —  let's  be  going."  They  gather  up  their 
several  wraps  and  bags,  and  move  with  great  dig- 
nity toward  the  door. 

Aunt  Mary,  putting  out  her  head  :  "  Agnes  !  If 
you  must  forget  your  aunt,  at  least  remember  your 
child." 

Mrs.  Roberts,  running  back  in  an  agony  of 
remorse  :  "  Oh,  baby,  did  I  forget  you  ?  " 

Campbell :  "  Oh,  aunty,  did  she  forget  you  ?  " 
He  runs  back,  and  extends  his  arms  to  his  aunt. 
"  Let  me  help  you  down,  Aunt  Mary." 

Aunt  Mary :  "  Nonsense,  Willis.    Send  the  porter." 

Campbell,  turning  round  and  confronting  The 
Porter:  "He  was  here  upon  instinct.  Shall  he 
fetch  a  step-ladder  ?  " 


AND   OTHER   FABCES.  97 

Aunt  Mary:  "He  will  know  what  to  do.  Go 
away,  Willis;  go  away  with  that  child,  Agnes. 
If  I  should  happen  to  fall  on  you "  —  They 
retreat ;  the  curtain  drops  and  her  voice  is  heard 
behind  it  addressing  The  Porter  :  "  Give  pie  your 
hand ;  now  your  back  ;  now  your  knee.  So  !  And 
very  well  done,  thanks." 


THE    REGISTER. 

FARCE. 


THE   EEGISTER. 


I. 

SCENE  :  In  an  upper  chamber  of  a  boarding-house 
in  Melanchthon  Place,  Boston,  a  mature,  plain 
young  lady,  with  every  appearance  of  establish- 
ing herself  in  the  room  for  the  first  time,  moves 
about,  bestowing  little  touches  of  decoration 
here  and  there,  and  talking  with  another  young 
lady,  whose  voice  comes  through  the  open  door- 
way of  an  inner  room. 

Miss  Ethel  Eeed,  from  within :  "  What  in  the 
world  are  you  doing,  Nettie  ?  " 

Miss  Henrietta  Spaulding :  "  Oh,  sticking  up  a 
household  god  or  two.  What  are  you  doing  ?  " 

Miss  Heed :  "  Despairing." 

Miss  Spaulding :  "  Still  ?  " 

Miss  Heed}  tragically :  "  Still !  How  soon  did 
you  expect  me  to  stop  ?  I  am  here  on  the  sofa, 
where  I  flung  myself  two  hours  ago,  and  I  don't 
101 


102  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

think  I  shall  ever  get  up.  There  is  no  reason  why 
I  ever  should." 

Miss  Spaulding,  suggestively  :  "  Dinner." 

Miss  Reed:  "Oh,  dinner!  Dinner,  to  a  broken 
heart ! " 

Miss  Spaulding  :  "  I  don't  believe  your  heart  is 
broken." 

Miss  Reed :  "  But  I  tell  you  it  is  !  I  ought  to 
know  when  my  own  heart  is  broken,  I  should 
hope.  What  makes  you  think  it  isn't  ?  " 

Miss  Spaulding  :  "  Oh,  it's  happened  so  often ! " 

Miss  Reed :  "  But  this  is  a  real  case.  You  ought 
to  feel  my  forehead.  It's  as  hot  f  " 

Miss  Spaulding:  "  You  ought  to  get  up  and 
help  me  put  this  room  to  rights,  and  then  you 
would  feel  better." 

Miss  Reed :  "  No  ;  I  should  feel  worse.  The  idea 
of  household  gods  makes  me  sick.  Sylvan  deities 
are  what  I  want ;  the  great  god  Pan  among  the 
cat-tails  and  arrow-heads  in  the  '  ma'sh '  at  Ponk- 
wasset;  the  dryads  of  the  birch  woods  —  there  are 
no  oaks ;  the  nymphs  that  haunt  the  heights  and 
hollows  of  the  dear  old  mountain ;  the  "  — 

Miss  Spaulding :  "  Wha-a-at  ?  I  can't  hear  a 
word  you  say." 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  103 

Miss  Heed :  "  That's  because  you  keep  fussing 
about  so.  Why  don't  you  be  quiet,  if  you  want 
to  hear  ? "  She  lifts  her  voice  to  its  highest 
pitch,  with  a  pause  for  distinctness  between  the 
words  :  "  I'm  heart-broken  fpr  —  Ponkwasset.  The 
dryads  —  of  the  —  birch  woods.  The  nymphs — • 
and  the  great  —  god  —  Pan  —  in  the  reeds  —  by 
the  river.  And  all  —  that  —  sort  of  —  thing  !  " 

Miss  Spaulding :  "  You  know  very  well  you're 
not." 

Miss  Heed :  "  I'm  not  ?  What's  the  reason  I'm 
not?  Then,  what  am  I  heart-broken  for?" 

Miss  Spaulding :  "  You're  not  heart-broken  at 
all.  You  know  very  well  that  he'll  call  before 
we've  been  here  twenty-four  hours." 

Miss  Heed :  «  Who  ?  " 

Miss  Spaulding  :  "  The  great  god  Pan." 

Miss  Reed:  "Oh,  how  cruel  you  are,  to  mock 
me  so !  Come  in  here,  and  sympathize  a  little  ! 
Do,  Nettie." 

Miss  Spaulding :  « No ;  you  come  out  here  and 
utilize  a  little.  I'm  acting  for  your  best  good,  as 
they  say  at  Ponkwasset." 

Miss  Reed:  "When  they  want  to  be  disagree- 
able ! " 


104  THE   SLEEPING-CAB 

Miss  Spaulding :  "  If  this  room  isn't  in  order  by 
the  time  he  calls,  you'll  be  everlastingly  disgraced." 

Miss  Heed:  "I'm  that  now.  I  can't  be  more 
so  —  there's  that  comfort.  What  makes  you  think 
he'll  call?" 

Miss  Spaulding:  "Because  he's  a  gentleman, 
and  will  want  to  apologize.  He  behaved  very 
rudely  to  you." 

Miss  Reed:  "No,  Nettie;  I  behaved  rudely  to 
him.  Yes  !  Besides,  if  he  behaved  rudely,  he 
was  no  gentleman.  It's  a  contradiction  in  terms, 
don't  you  see  ?  But  I'll  tell  you  what  I'm  going 
to  do  if  he  comes.  I'm  going  to  show  a  proper 
spirit  for  once  in  my  life.  I'm  going  to  refuse  to 
see  him.  You've  got  to  see  him." 

Miss  Spaulding :   "  Nonsense  !  " 

Miss  Heed :  "  Why  nonsense  ?  Oh,  why  ?  Ex- 
pound !  " 

Miss  Spaulding:  "Because  he  wasn't  rude  to 
me,  and  he  doesn't  want  to  see  me.  Because  I'm 
plain,  and  you're  pretty." 

Miss  Heed :  "  I'm  not !  You  know  it  perfectly 
well.  I'm  hideous." 

Miss  Spaulding :  "  Because  I'm  poor,  and  you're 
a  person  of  independent  property." 


AND    OTHER   FARCES.  105 

Miss  Heed :  "  Dependent  property,  I  should  call 
it:  just  enough  to  be  useless  on!  But  that's 
insulting  to  kirn.  How  can  you  say  it's  because 
I  have  a  little  money?" 

Miss  Spaulding :  "  Well,  then,  I  won't.  I  take 
it  back.  I'll  say  it's  because  you're  young,  and 
I'm  old." 

Miss  Heed :  st  You're  not  old.  You're  as  young 
as  anybody,  Nettie  Spaulding.  And  you  know  I'm 
not  young;  I'm  twenty-seven,  if  I'm  a  day.  I'm 
just  dropping  into  the  grave.  But  I  can't  argue 
with  you,  miles  off  so,  any  longer."  Miss  fi'eed 
appears  at  the  open  door,  dragging  languidly  after 
her  the  shawl  which  she  had  evidently  drawn 
round  her  on  the  sofa ;  her  fair  hair  is  a  little  dis- 
ordered, and  she  presses  it  into  shape  with  one 
hand  as  she  comes  forward;  a  lovely  flush  vies 
with  a  heavenly  pallor  in  her  cheeks ;  she  looks 
a  little  pensive  in  the  arching  eyebrows,  and  a 
little  humorous  about  the  dimpled  mouth.  "Now 
I  can  prove  that  you  are  entirely  wrong.  Where 
were  you  ?  —  This  room  is  rather  an  improvement 
over  the  one  we  had  last  winter.  There  is  more 
of  a  view  "  —  she  goes  to  the  window  —  "  of  the 
houses  across  the  Place ;  and  I  always  think  the 


106  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

swell  front  gives  a  pretty  shape  to  a  room.  I'm 
sorry  they've  stopped  building  them.  Your  piano 
goes  very  nicely  into  that  little  alcove.  Yes, 
we're  quite  palatial.  And,  on  the  whole,  I'm 
glad  there's  no  fireplace.  It's  a  pleasure  at  times ; 
but  for  the  most  part  it's  a  vanity  and  a  vexation, 
getting  dust  and  ashes  over  everything.  Yes ; 
after  all,  give  me  the  good  old-fashioned,  clean, 
convenient  register !  Ugh !  My  feet  are  like  ice." 
She  pulls  an  easy-chair  up  to  the  register  in  the 
corner  of  the  room,  and  pushes  open  its  valves 
with  the  toe  of  her  slipper.  As  she  settles  her- 
self luxuriously  in  the  chair,  and  poises  her  feet 
daintily  over  the  register :  "  Ah,  this  is  some- 
thing like  !  Henrietta  Spaulding,  ma'am !  Did  I 
ever  tell  you  that  you  were  the  best  friend  I  have 
in  the  world  ?  " 

Miss  Spaulding,  who  continues  her  work  of 
arranging  the  room :  "  Often." 

Miss  Eeed :  "  Did  you  ever  believe  it  ?  " 

Miss  Spaulding :  "  Never." 

Miss  Eeed:  "Why?" 

Miss  Spaulding,  thoughtfully  regarding  a  vase 
which  she  holds  in  her  hand,  after  several  times 
shifting  it  from  a  bracket  to  the  corner  of  her 


AND  OTHER  FAECES.  107 

piano  and  back :  "  I  wish.  I  could  tell  where  you 
do  look  best ! " 

Miss  Reed,  leaning  forward  wistfully,  with  her 
hands  clasped  and  resting  on  her  knees  :  "  I  wish 
you  would  tell  ine  ivhy  you  don't  believe  you're 
the  best  friend  I  have  in  the  world." 

Miss  Spaulding,  finally  placing  the  vase  on  the 
bracket :  "  Because  you've  said  so  too  often." 

Miss  Heed :  "  Oh,  that's  no  reason !  I  can 
prove  to  you  that  you  are.  Who  else  but  you 
would  have  taken  in  a  homeless  and  friendless 
creature  like  me,  and  let  her  stay  bothering  round 
in  demoralizing  idleness,  while  you  were  seri- 
ously teaching  the  young  idea  how  to  drub  the 
piano  ?  " 

Miss  Spaulding:  "  Anybody  who  wanted  a 
room-mate  as  much  as  I  did,  and  could  have  found 
one  willing  to  pay  more  than  her  share  of  the 
lodging." 

Miss  Reed,  thoughtfully:  "Do  you  think  so, 
Henrietta  ?  " 

Miss  Spaulding :  "I  know  so." 

Miss  Reed:  "And  you're  not  afraid  that  you 
wrong  yourself?" 

Miss  Spaulding :  "  Not  the  least." 


108  THE  SLEEPING-CAR 

Miss  Reed:  "Well,  be  it  so  —  as  they  say  in 
novels.  I  will  not  contradict  you;  I  will  not 
say  you  are  my  lest  friend;  I  will  merely  say 
that  you  are  my  only  friend.  Come  here,  Henri- 
etta. Draw  up  your  chair,  and  put  your  little 
hand  in  mine." 

Miss  Spaulding,  with  severe  distrust :  "  What 
do  you  want,  Ethel  Eeed  ?  " 

Miss  Eeed :  "  I  want  —  I  want  —  to  talk  it  over 
with  you." 

Miss  Spaulding,  recoiling :  "  I  knew  it !  Well, 
now,  we've  talked  it  over  enough ;  we've  talked 
it  over  till  there's  nothing  left  of  it." 

Miss  Heed:  "Oh,  there's  everything  left!  It 
remains  in  all  its  original  enormity.  Perhaps  we 
shall  get  some  new  light  upon  it."  She  extends 
a  pleading  hand  towards  Miss  Spaulding.  "  Come, 
Henrietta,  my  only  friend,  shake  !  —  as  the  '  good 
Indians '  say.  Let  your  Ethel  pour  her  hackneyed 
sorrows  into  your  bosom.  Such  an  uncomfortable 
image,  it  always  seems,  doesn't  it,  pouring  sorrows 
into  bosoms  !  Come  ! " 

Miss  Spaulding,  decidedly :  "  No,  I  won't !  And 
you  needn't  try  wheedling  any  longer.  I  won't 
sympathize  with  you  on  that  basis  at  all." 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  109 

Miss  Heed :  "  What  shall  I  try,  then,  if  you 
won't  let  me  try  wheedling  ?  " 

Miss  Spaulding,  going  to  the  piano  and  opening 
it :  "  Try  courage  ;  try  self-respect." 

Miss  Reed :  "  Oh,  dear  !  when  I  haven't  a  morsel 
of  either.  Are  you  going  to  practise,  you  cruel 
maid  ?  " 

Miss  Spaulding :  "  Of  course  I  am.  It's  half- 
past  four,  and  if  I  don't  do  it  now  I  sha'n't  be 
prepared  to-morrow  for  Miss  Eobins :  she  takes 
this  piece." 

Miss  Heed:  "Well,  well,  perhaps  it's  all  for 
the  best.  If  music  be  the  food  of  —  umph-ump! 
—  you  know  what !  —  play  on."  They  both  laugh, 
and  Miss  Spaulding  pushes  back  a  little  from  the 
piano,  and  wheels  toward  her  friend,  letting  one 
hand  rest  slightly  on  the  keys. 

Miss  Spaulding :  "  Ethel  B-eed,  you're  the  most 
ridiculous  girl  in  the  world."  • 

Miss  Heed:  "Correct!" 

Miss  Spaulding  :  "  And  I  don't  believe  you  ever 
were  in  love,  or  ever  will  be." 

Miss  Heed:  "Ah,  tKere  you  wrong  me,  Henri- 
etta !  I  have  been,  and  I  shall  be  —  lots  of 
times." 


110  THE  SLEEPING-CAR 

Miss  Spaulding :  "Well,  what  do  you  want  to 
say  now  ?  You  must  hurry,  for  I  can't  lose  any 
more  time." 

Miss  Reed :  "  I  will  free  my  mind  with  neatness 
and  despatch.  I  simply  wish  to  go  over  the  whole 
affair,  from  Alfred  to  Omaha ;  and  you've  got  to 
let  me  talk  as  much  slang  and  nonsense  as  I 
want.  And  then  I'll  skip  all  the  details  I  can. 
Will  you?" 

Miss  Spaulding,  with  impatient  patience :  "  Oh, 
I  suppose  so !  " 

Miss  Heed:  "That's  very  sweet  of  you,  though 
you  don't  look  it.  Now,  where  was  I  ?  Oh,  yes ; 
do  you  think  it  was  forth-putting  at  all,  to  ask 
him  if  he  would  give  me  the  lessons  ?  " 

Miss  Spaulding :  "  It  depends  upon  why  you 
asked  him." 

Miss  Heed :  "  I  asked  him  from  —  from  —  Let 
me  see;  I  asked  him  because — from —  Yes,  I 
say  it  boldly;  I  asked  him  from  an  enthusiasm 
for  art,  and  a  sincere  wish  to  learn  the  use  of 
oil,  as  he  called  it.  Yes  ! " 

Miss  Spaulding :  "  Are  you  sure  ?  " 

Miss  Heed:  "Sure?  Well,  we  will  say  that  I 
am,  for  the  sake  of  argument.  And,  having 


AND  OTHER  FARCES.  Ill 

secured  this  basis,  the  question  is  whether  I 
wasn't  bound  to  offer  him  pay  at  the  end,  and 
whether  he  wasn't  wrong  to  take  my  doing  so  in 
dudgeon." 

Miss  Spaulding :  "  Yes,  I  think  he  was  wrong. 
And  the  terms  of  his  refusal  were  very  ungentle- 
manly.  He  ought  to  apologize  most  amply  and 
humbly."  At  a  certain  expression  in  Miss  Reed's 
face,  she  adds,  with  severity :  "  Unless  you're 
keeping  back  the  main  point.  You  usually  do. 
Are  you?" 

Miss  Heed :  "  No,  no.  I've  told  you  everything 
—  everything !  " 

Miss  Spaulding :  "  Then  I  say,  as  I  said  from 
the  beginning,  that  he  behaved  very  badly.  It 
was  very  awkward  and  very  painful,  but  you've 
really  nothing  to  blame  yourself  for." 

Miss  Heed,  ruefully  :  "  No-o-o  !  " 

Miss  Spaulding :  "  What  do  you  mean  by  that 
sort  of  <No'?" 

Miss  Reed:  "Nothing." 

Miss  Spaulding ',  sternly  :  "  Yes,  you  do,  Ethel." 

Miss  Reed  :  "  I  don't,  really.  What  makes  you 
think  I  do  ?  " 

Miss  Spaulding  :  "  It  sounded  very  dishonest." 


112  THE  SLEEPING-CAR 

Miss  Reed:  " Did  it?  I  didn't  mean  it  to." 
Her  friend  breaks  down  with  a  laugh,  while  Miss 
Reed  preserves  a  demure  countenance. 

Miss  Spauldiny:  "What  are  you  keeping 
back?" 

Miss  Reed:  "Nothing  at  all  —  less  than  noth- 
ing !  I  never  thought  it  was  worth  mentioning." 

Miss  Spauldiny :  "  Are  you  tellirig  me  the 
truth?" 

Miss  Reed :  "  I'm  telling  you  the  truth  and 
something  more.  You  can't  ask  better  than  that, 
can  you  ?  " 

Miss  Spauldiny,  turning  to  her  music  again: 
"Certainly  not." 

Miss  Reed :  in  a  pathetic  wail :  "  0  Henrietta ! 
do  you  abandon  me  thus  ?  Well,  I  will  tell  you, 
heartless  girl !  I've  only  kept  it  back  till  now 
because  it  was  so  extremely  mortifying  to  my 
pride  as  an  artist  —  as  a  student  of  oil.  Will 
you  hear  me  ?  " 

Miss  Spaulding,  beginning  to  play  :  "  No." 

Miss  Reed,  with  burlesque  wildness :  "  You 
shall ! "  Miss  Spauldiny  involuntarily  desists. 
"There  was  a  moment  —  a  fatal  moment — when 
he  said  he  thought  he  ought  to  tell  me  that  if 


AND   OTHER  FARCES.  113 

I  found  oil  amusing  I  could  go  on ;  but  that  he 
didn't  believe  I  should  ever  learn  to  use  it,  and 
he  couldn't  let  me  take  lessons  from  him  with 
the  expectation  that  I  should.  There  ! " 

Miss  Spaulding j  with  awful  reproach :  "  And 
you  call  that  less  than  nothing?  I've  almost  a 
mind  never  to  speak  to  you  again,  Ethel.  How 
could  you  deceive  me  so  ?  " 

Miss  Reed:  "Was  it  really  deceiving?  1 
shouldn't  call  it  so.  And  I  needed  your  sympathy 
so  much,  and  I  knew  I  shouldn't  get  it  unless  you 
thought  I  was  altogether  in  the  right." 

Miss  Spaulding :  "  You  are  altogether  in  the 
wrong!  And  it's  you  that  ought  to  apologize  to 
him  —  on  your  bended  knees.  How  could  you 
offer  him  money  after  that?  I  wonder  at  you, 
Ethel ! " 

Miss  Reed :  "  Why  —  don't  you  see,  Nettie  ?  — 
I  did  keep  on  taking  the  lessons  of  him.  I  did 
find  oil  amusing — or  the  oilist  —  and  I  kept  on. 
Of  course  I  had  to,  off  there  in  a  farmhouse  full 
of  lady  boarders,  and  he  the  only  gentleman  short 
of  Crawford's.  Strike,  but  hear  me,  Henrietta 
Spaulding  !  What  was  I  to  do  about  the  half- 
dozen  lessons  I  had  taken  before  he  told  me  I 


114  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

should  never  learn  to  use  oil  ?  Was  I  to  offer 
to  pay  him  for  these,  and  not  for  the  rest ;  or 
was  I  to  treat  the  whole  series  as  gratuitous  ? 
I  used  to  lie  awake  thinking  about  it.  I've  got 
some  little  tact,  but  I  couldn't  find  any  way  out 
of  the  trouble.  It  was  a  box — yes,  a  box  of 
the  deepest  dye  !  And  the  whole  affair  having 
got  to  be  —  something  else,  don't  you  know  ?  — 
made  it  all  the  worse.  And  if  he'd  only  —  only  — 
But  he  didn't.  Not  a  syllable,  not  a  breath ! 
And  there  I  was.  I  had  to  offer  him  the  money. 
And  it's  almost  killed  me  —  the  way  he  took  my 
offering  it,  and  now  the  way  you  take  it !  And 
it's  all  of  a  piece."  Miss  Reed  suddenly  snatches 
her  handkerchief  from  her  pocket,  and  buries  her 
face  in  it.  —  "  Oh,  dear  —  oh,  dear  !  Oh  !  —  hu,  hu, 
hu!" 

Miss  Spaulding,  relenting  :  "  It  was  awkward." 

Miss  Reed :  "  Awkward  !  You  seem  to  think 
that  because  I  carry  things  off  lightly  I  have  no 
feeling." 

Miss  Spaulding  :  "  You  know  I  don't  think  that, 
Ethel." 

Miss  Reed,  pursuing  her  advantage :  "  I  don't 
know  it  from  you,  Nettie.  I've  tried  and  tried  to 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  115 

pass  it  off  as  a  joke,  and  to  treat  it  as  something 
funny ;  but  I  can  tell  you  it's  no  joke  at  all." 
Miss  Spaulding,  sympathetically:  "I  see,  dear." 
Miss  Reed :  "  It's  not  that  I  care  for  him  "  — 
Miss  Spaidding :  "Why,  of  course." 
Miss  Reed:    "For  I  don't   in  the  least.     He  is 
horrid   every  way :   blunt,  and   rude,  and   horrid. 
I  never  cared  for  him.     But  I   care  for  myself ! 
He  has  put  me  in  the  position  of  having  done  an 
unkind  thing  —  an  unladylike  thing  —  when  I  was 
only  doing  what  I  had  to  do.     Why  need  he  have 
taken  it  the  way  he  did  ?     Why  couldn't  he  have 
said  politely  that   he  couldn't  accept  the   money 
because  he  hadn't  earned  it  ?     Even  that  would 
have  been  mortifying  enough.     But  he   must  go 
and  be  so  violent,  and  rush  off,  and  —    Oh,  I  never 
could  have  treated  anybody  so !  " 

Miss  Spaulding :  "  Not  unless  you  were  very 
fond  of  them." 

Miss  Reed:  "What?" 

Miss  Spaulding:  "Not  unless  you  were  very 
fond  of  them." 

Miss  Reed,  putting  away  her  handkerchief: 
"  Oh,  nonsense,  Nettie  !  He  never  cared  anything 
for  me,  or  he  couldn't  have  acted  so.  But  no 


116  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

matter  for  that.  He  has  fixed  everything  so  that 
it  can  never  be  got  straight  —  never  in  the  world. 
It  will  just  have  to  remain  a  hideous  mass  of  — 
of  —  /  don't  know  what ;  and  I  have  simply  got  to 
go  on  withering  with  despair  at  the  point  where 
I  left  off.  But  I  don't  care  !  That's  one  comfort." 

Miss  Spaulding :  "  I  don't  believe  he'll  let  you 
wither  long,  Ethel." 

Miss  Heed :  "  He's  let  me  wither  for  twenty- 
four  hours  already !  But  it's  nothing  to  me,  now, 
how  long  he  lets  me  wither.  I'm  perfectly  satis- 
fied to  have  the  affair  remain  as  it  is.  I  am  in  the 
right,  and  if  he  comes  I  shall  refuse  to  see  him." 

Miss  Spaulding :  "  Oh,  no,  you  won't,  Ethel !  " 

Miss  Reed :  "  Yes,  I  shall.  I  shall  receive  him 
very  coldly.  I  won't  listen  to  any  excuse  from 
him." 

Miss  Spaulding :  "  Oh,  yes,  you  will,  Ethel ! " 

Miss  Reed :  "  No,  I  shall  not.  If  he  wishes  me 
to  listen  he  must  begin  by  humbling  himself  in 
the  dust — yes,  the  dust,  Nettie!  I  won't  take 
anything  short  of  it.  I  insist  that  he  shall  realize 
that  I  have  suffered." 

Miss  Spaulding:  "Perhaps  he  has  suffered 
too!" 


AND   OTHER   FAECES.  117 

Miss  Heed :  "  Oh,  he  suffered  !  " 

Miss  Spaulding :  "You  know  that  he  was  per- 
fectly devoted  to  you." 

Miss  Reed :  "  He  never  said  so." 

Miss  Spaulding  :  "  Perhaps  he  didn't  dare.' 

Miss  Heed:  "He  dared  to  be  very  insolent  to 
me." 

Miss  Spaulding :  "  And  you  know  you  liked  him 
very  much." 

Miss  Reed:  "I  won't  let  you  say  that,  Nettie 
Spaulding.  I  didn't  like  him.  I  respected  and 
admired  him;  but  I  didn't  like  him.  He  will 
never  come  near  me;  but  if  he  does  he  has  to 
begin  by  —  by  —  Let  me  see,  what  shall  I  make 
him  begin  by  doing  ?  "  She  casts  up  her  eyes 
for  inspiration  while  she  leans  forward  over  the 
register.  "Yes,  I  will!  He  has  got  to  begin  by 
taking  that  money  !  " 

Miss  Spaulding  :  "  Ethel,  you  wouldn't  put  that 
affront  upon  a  sensitive  and  high-spirited  man !  " 

Miss  Reed:  "Wouldn't  I?  You  wait  and  see, 
Miss  Spaulding!  He  shall  take  the  money,  and 
he  shall  sign  a  receipt  for  it.  I'll  draw  up  the 
receipt  now,  so  as  to  have  it  ready,  and  I  shall 
ask  him  to  sign  it  the  very  moment  he  enters  this 


118  THE   SLEEPING-CAB 

door — t'he  very  instant!"  She  takes  a  portfolio 
from  the  table  near  her,  without  rising,  and  writes  : 
"'Keceived  from  Miss  Ethel  Reed  one  hundred 
and  twenty-five  dollars,  in  full,  for  twenty -five 
lessons  in  oil-painting.7  There  —  when  Mr.  Oliver 
Kansom  has  signed  this  little  document  he  may 
begin  to  talk  ;  not  before ! "  She  leans  back  in 
her  chair  with  an  air  of  pitiless  determination. 

Miss  Spaulding :  "  But,  Ethel,  you  don't  mean 
to  make  him  take  money  for  the  lessons  he 
gave  you  after  he  told  you  you  couldn't  learn 
anything  ?  " 

Miss  Reed,  after  a  moment's  pause :  "  Yes,  I  do. 
This  is  to  punish  him.  I  don't  wish  for  justice 
now;  I  wish  for  vengeance!  At  first  I  would 
have  compromised  on  the  six  lessons,  or  on.  none 
at  all,  if  he  had  behaved  nicely ;  but  after  what's 
happened  I  shall  insist  upon  paying  him  for  every 
lesson,  so  as  to  make  him  feel  that  the  whole  thing, 
from  first  to  last,  was  a  purely  business  transac- 
tion on  my  part.  Yes,  a  purely  —  BUSINESS  — 

TRANSACTION  !  " 

Miss  Spaulding,  turning  to  her  music:  "Then 
I've  got  nothing  more  to  say  to  you,  Ethel 
Eeed." 


AND   OTHER  FAECES.  119 

Miss  Reed:  "I  don't  say  but  what,  after  he's 
taken  the  money  and  signed  the  receipt,  I'll  listen 
to  anything  else  he's  got  to  say,  very  willingly." 
Miss  Spaulding  makes  no  answer,  but  begins  to 
play  with  a  scientific  absorption,  feeling  her  way 
fitfully  through  the  new  piece,  while  Miss  Reed, 
seated  by  the  register,  trifles  with  the  book  she 
has  taken  from  the  table. 


120  THE  SLEEPING-CAR 


II. 


THE  interior  of  the  room  of  Miss  Spaulding  and 
Miss  Reed  remains  in  view,  while  the  scene 
discloses,  on  the  other  side  of  the  partition  wall 
in  the  same  house,  the  bachelor  apartment  of 
Mr.  Samuel  Grinnidge.  Mr.  Grinnidge  in  his 
dressing-gown  and  slippers,  with  his  pipe  in 
his  mouth,  has  the  effect  of  having  just  come 
in ;  his  friend  Mr.  Oliver  Ransom  stands  at  the 
window,  staring  out  into  the  November  weather. 

Grinnidge :  "  How  long  have  you  been  waiting 
here?" 

Ransom:  "Ten  minutes  —  ten  years.  How 
should  I  know?" 

Grinnidge :  "  Well,  I  don't-  know  who  else 
should.  Get  back  to-day?" 

Ransom  :  "  Last  night." 

Grinnidge :  "  Well,  take  off  your  coat,  and  pull 
up  to  the  register,  and  warm  your  poor  feet."  He 
puts  his  hand  out  over  the  register.  "  Confound 


AND   OTHER   FAECES.  121 

it !  somebody's  got  the  register  open  in  the  next 
room !  You  see,  one  pipe  conies  up  from  the 
furnace  and  branches  into  a  V  just  under  the  floor, 
and  professes  to  heat  both  rooms.  But  it  don't 
There  was  a  fellow  in  there  last  winter  who  used 
to  get  all  my  heat.  Used  to  go  out  and  leave  his 
register  open,  and  I'd  come  in  here  just  before 
dinner  and  find  this  place  as  cold  as  a  barn.  We 
had  a  running  fight  of  it  all  winter.  The  man 
who  got  his  register  open  first  in  the  morning  got 
all  the  heat  for  the  day,  for  it  never  turned  the 
other  way  when  it  started  in  one  direction.  Used 
to  almost  suffocate  —  warm,  muggy  days  —  main- 
taining my  rights.  Some  piano-pounder  in  there 
this  winter,  it  seems.  Hear  ?  And  she  hasn't 
lost  any  time  in  learning  the  trick  of  the  register. 
What  kept  you  so  late  in  the  country  ?  " 

Ransom,  after  an  absent-minded  pause :  "  Grin- 
nidge,  I  wish  you  would  give  me  some  advice." 

Grinnidge :  "  You  can  have  all  you  want  of  it 
at  the  market  price." 

Ransom :  "  I  don't  mean  your  legal  advice." 

Grinnidf/e :  "  I'm  sorry.  What  have  you  been 
doing  ?  " 

Ransom  :  "  I've  been  making  an  ass  of  myself." 


122  THE  SLEEPING-CAR 

Grinnidge  :  "  Wasn't  that  rather  superfluous  ?  " 

Ransom:  "If  you  please,  yes.  But  now,  if 
you're  capable  of  listening  to  me  without  any 
further  display  of  your  cross-examination  wit,  I 
should  like  to  tell  you  how  it  happened." 

Grinnidge:  "I  will  do  my  best  to  veil  my 
brilliancy.  Go  on." 

Ransom:  "I  went  up  to  Ponkwasset  early  in 
September  for  the  foliage." 

Grinnidge:  "And  staid  till  late  in  October. 
There  must  have  been  a  reason  for  that.  What 
was  her  name  ?  Foliage  ?  " 

Ransom,  coming  up  to  the  corner  of  the  chimney- 
piece,  near  which  his  friend  sits,  and  talking  to 
him  directly  over  the  register :  "  I  think  you'll 
have  to  get  along  without  the  name  for  the  pres- 
ent. I'll  tell  you  by  and  by."  As  Mr.  Ransom 
pronounces  these  words,  Miss  Reed,  on  her  side 
of  the  partition,  lifts  her  head  with  a  startled 
air,  and,  after  a  moment  of  vague  circumspection, 
listens  keenly.  "  But  she  was  beautiful.  She  was 
a  blonde,  and  she  had  the  loveliest  eyes  —  eyes, 
you  know,  that  could  be  funny  or  tender,  just  as 
she  chose  — the  kind  of  eyes  I  always  liked." 
Miss  Reed  leads  forward  over  the  register.  "  She 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  123 

had  one  of  those  faces  that  always  leave  you  in 
doubt  whether  they're  laughing  at  you,  and  so 
keep  you  in  wholesome  subjection;  but  you  feel 
certain  that  they're  good,  and  that  if  they  did 
hurt  you  by  laughing  at  you,  they'd  look  sorry 
for  you  afterward.  When  she  walked  you  saw 
what  an  exquisite  creature  she  was.  It  always 
made  me  mad  to  think  I  couldn't  paint  her  walk.'7 

Grinnidge :  "  I  suppose  you  saw  a  good'  deal  of 
her  walk." 

Ransom :  "  Yes ;  we  were  off  in  the  woods  and 
fields  half  the  time  together."  He  takes  a  turn 
towards  the  window. 

Miss  Reed,  suddenly  shutting  the  register  on  her 
side:  "Oh!" 

Miss  Spaulding,  looking  up  from  her  music : 
"What  is  it,  Ethel?" 

Miss  Reed :  "  Nothing,  nothing ;  I  —  I  —  thought 
it  was  getting  too  warm.  Go  on,  dear ;  don't  let 
me  interrupt  you."  After  a  moment  of  heroic 
self-denial  she  softly  presses  the  register  open 
with  her  foot. 

Ransom,  coming  back  to  the  register :  "  It  all 
began  in  that  way.  I  had  the  good  fortune  one 
day  to  rescue  her  from  a  —  cow." 


124  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

Miss  Reed :  "  Oh,  for  shame  !  " 

Miss  Spaulding,  desisting  from  her  piano : 
"  What  is  the  matter  ?  " 

Miss  Heed,  clapping  the  register  to :  "  This 
ridiculous  book  !  But  don't  —  don't  mind  me, 
Nettie."  Breathlessly  :  "  Go  —  go  —  on  !  "  Miss 
Spaulding  resumes,  and  again  Miss  Reed  softly 
presses  the  register  open. 

Ransom,  after  a  pause :  "  The  cow  was  grazing, 
and  had  no  more  thought  of  hooking  Miss  "  — 

Miss  Reed :  "  Oh,  I  didn't  suppose  he  would!  — 
Go  on,  Nettie,  go  on  !  The  hero  —  such  a  goose  !  " 

Ransom:  "I  drove  her  away  with  my  camp- 
stool,  and  Miss  —  the  young  lady  —  was  as  grateful 
as  if  I  had  rescued  her  from  a  menagerie  of  wild 
animals.  I  walked  home  with  her  to  the  farm- 
house, and  the  trouble  began  at  once."  Pantomime 
of  indignant  protest  and  burlesque  menace  on  the 
part  of  Miss  Reed.  "There  wasn't  another  well 
woman  in  the  house,  except  her  friend  Miss  Spaul- 
ding, who  was  rather  old  and  rather  plain."  He 
takes  another  turn  to  the  window. 

Miss  Reed:  "Oh!"  She  shuts  the  register,  but 
instantly  opens  it  again.  "Louder,  Nettie." 

Miss  Spaulding,  in  astonishment :  "  What  ?  " 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  125 

Miss  Heed :  "  Did  I  speak  ?  I  didn't  know  it. 
I"  — 

Miss  Spaulding,  desisting  from  practice  :  "  What 
is  that  strange,  hollow,  rumbling,  mumbling  kind 
of  noise  ?  " 

Miss  Reed,  softly  closing  the  register  with  her 
foot :  "  I  don't  hear  any  strange,  hollow,  rumbling, 
mumbling  kind  of  noise.  Do  you  hear  it  now  ?  " 

Miss  Spaulding:  "No.  It  was  the  Brighton 
whistle,  probably." 

Miss  Reed  :  "  Oh,  very  likely."  As  Miss  Spaul- 
ding turns  again  to  her  practice  Miss  Reed  re-opens 
the  register  and  listens  again.  A  little  interval  of 
silence  ensues,  while  Ransom  lights  a  cigarette. 

Grinnidge  :  "  So  you  sought  opportunities  of 
rescuing  her  from  other  cows  ?  " 

Ransom,  returning  :  "  That  wasn't  necessary. 
The  young  lady  was  so  impressed  by  my  behavior, 
that  she  asked  if  I  would  give  her  some  lessons  in 
the  use  of  oil." 

Grinnidge :  "  She  thought  if  she  knew  how  to 
paint  pictures  like  yours  she  wouldn't  need  any  one 
to  drive  the  cows  away." 

Ransom:  "Don't  be  farcical,  Grinnidge.  That 
sort  of  thing  will  do  with  some  victim  on  the 


126  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

witness-stand  who  can't  help  himself.  Of  course 
I  said  I  would,  and  we  were  off  half  the  time 
together,  painting  the  loveliest  and  loneliest  bits 
around  Ponkwasset.  It  all  went  on  very  well,  till 
one  day  I  felt  bound  in  conscience  to  tell  her  that  I 
didn't  think  she  would  ever  learn  to  paint,  and  that 
if  she  was  serious  about  it  she'd  better  drop  it  at 
once,  for  she  was  wasting  her  time." 

Grinnidge,  getting  up  to  fill  his  pipe  :  "  That 
was  a  pleasant  thing  to  do." 

Ransom •:  "I  told  her  that  if  it  amused  her,  to 
keep  on  ;  I  would  be  only  too  glad  to  give  her  all 
the  hints  I  could,  but  that  I  oughtn't  to  encourage 
her.  She  seemed  a  good  deal  hurt.  I  fancied  at 
the  time  that  she  thought  I  was  tired  of  having 
her  with  me  so  much." 

Miss  Heed:  "Oh,  did  you,  indeed!"  To  Miss 
Spaulding,  who  bends  an  astonished  glance  upon 
her  from  the  piano :  "  The  man  in  this  book  is  the 
most  conceited  creature,  Nettie.  Play  chords  — 
something  very  subdued  —  ah ! " 

Miss  Spaulding :  "What  a  re  you  talking  about, 
Ethel  ?  " 

Ransom  :  "  That  was  at  night ;  but  the  next  day 
she  came  up  smiling,  and  said  that  if  I  didn't  mind 


AND    OTHER   FARCES.  127 

she  would  keep  on  —  for  amusement ;  she  wasn't  a 
bit  discouraged." 

Miss  Reed :  "  Oh  !  —  Go  on,  Nettie  ;  don't  let 
my  outbursts  interrupt  you." 

Ransom :  "  I  used  to  fancy  sometimes  that  she 
was  a  little  sweet  on  me." 

Miss  Reed :  «  You  wretch !  —  Oh,  scales,  Nettie  ! 
Play  scales ! " 

Miss  Spaulding :  "Ethel  Reed,  are  you  crazy  ?  " 

Ransom,  after  a  thoughtful  moment :  "  Well,  so 
it  went  on  for  the  next  seven  or  eight  weeks. 
When  we  weren't  sketching  in  the  meadows,  or  on 
the  mountain-side,  or  in  the  old  punt  on  the  pond, 
we  were  walking  up  and  down  the  farmhouse 
piazza  together.  She  used  to  read  to  me  when 
I  was  at  work.  She  had  a  heavenly  voice, 
Grinnidge." 

Miss  Reed :  "  Oh,  you  silly,  silly  thing  !  —  Eeally 
this  book  makes  me  sick,  Nettie." 

Ransom :  "  Well,  the  long  and  the  short  of  it 
was,  I  ,was  hit  — hard,  and  I  lost  all  courage.  You 
know  how  I  am,  Grinnidge." 

Miss  Reed,  softly  :  "  Oh,  poor  fellow  ! " 

Ransom :  "  So  I  let  the  time  go  by,  and  at  the 
end  I  hadn't  said  anything." 


128  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

Miss  Eeed:  -"No, 'sir!  You  hadn't!"  Miss 
Spaulding  gradually  ceases  to  play,  and  fixes  her 
attention  wholly  upon  Miss  Reed,  who  bends  for- 
ward over  the  register  with  an  intensely  excited 
face. 

Ransom  :  "  Then  something  happened  that  made 
me  glad,  for  twenty-four  hours  at  least,  that  I 
hadn't  spoken.  She  sent  me  the  money  for  twenty- 
five  lessons.  Imagine  how  I  felt,  Grinnidge ! 
What  could  I  suppose  but  that  she  had  been 
quietly  biding  her  time,  and  storing  up  her  resent- 
ment for  my  having  told  her  she  couldn't  learn  to 
paint,  till  she  could  pay  me  back  with  interest  in 
one  supreme  insult  ?  " 

Miss  Reed,  in  a  low  voice  :  "  Oh,  how  could  you 
think  such  a  cruel,  vulgar  thing  ?  "  Miss  Spaul- 
ding leaves  the  piano,  and  softly  approaches  her, 
where  she  has  sunk  on  her  knees  beside  the 
register. 

Ransom :  "  It  was  tantamount  to  telling  me  that 
she  had  been  amusing  herself  with  me  instead  of 
my  lessons.  It  remanded  our  whole  association, 
which  I  had  got  to  thinking  so  romantic,  to  the 
relation  of  teacher  and  pupil.  It  was  a  snub  —  a 
heartless,  killing  snub;  and  I  couldn't  see  it  in  any 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  129 

other  light."  Ransom  walks  away  to  the  window, 
and  looks  out. 

Miss  Reed,  flinging  herself  backward  from  the 
register,  and  hiding  her  face  in  her  hands  :  "  Oh, 
it  wasn't !  it  wasn't !  it  wasn't !  How  could  you 
think  so  ?  " 

Miss  Spaulding,  rushing  forward,  and  catching 
her  friend  in  her  arms  :  "  What  is  the  matter  with 
you,  Ethel  Eeed  ?  What  are  you  doing  here,  over 
the  register  ?  Are  you  trying  to  suffocate  your- 
self ?  Have  you  taken  leave  of  your  senses  ?  " 

Grinnidge :  "  Our  fair  friend  on  the  other  side 
of  the  wall  seems  to  be  on  the  rampage." 

Miss  Spaulding,  shutting  the  register  with  a 
violent  clash  :  "  Ugh  !  how  hot  it  is  here  !  " 

Grinnidge:  "Doesn't  like  your  conversation, 
apparently." 

Miss  Reed,  frantically  pressing  forward  to  open 
the  register :  "  Oh,  don't  shut  it,  Nettie,  dear ! 
If  you  do  I  shall  die !  Do-o-n't  shut  the  regis- 
ter ! " 

Miss  Spaulding :  "  Don't  shut  it  ?  Why,  we've 
got  all  the  heat  of  the  furnace  in  the  room  now. 
Surely  you  don't  want  any  more  ?  " 

Miss   Reed:    "No,  no;    not   any   more.     But  — 


130  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

but  —  Oh,  dear !  what  shall  I  do  ?  "  She  still 
struggles  in  the  embrace  of  her  friend. 

Grinnidge,  remaining  quietly  at  the  register, 
while  Ransom  walks  away  to  the  window :  "  Well, 
what  did  you  do  ?  " 

Miss  Reed :  "  There,  there  !  They're  commen- 
cing again!  Do  open  it,  Nettie.  I  will  have  it 
open ! "  She  wrenches  herself  free,  and  dashes 
the  register  open. 

Grinnidge :  "  Ah,  she's  opened  it  again." 

Miss  Reed,  in  a  stage-whisper :  "  That's  the 
other  one  ! " 

Ransom,  from  the  window  :  "Do  ?  I'll  tell  you 
what  I  did." 

Miss  Reed:  "That's  01  — Mr.  Eansom.  And, 
oh,  I  can't  make  out  what  he's  saying !  He  must 
have  gone  away  to  the  other  side  of  the  room  — 
and  it's  at  the  most  important  point ! " 

Miss  Spaulding,  in  an  awful  undertone:  "Was 
that  the  hollow  rumbling  I  heard  ?  And  have  you 
been  listening  at  the  register  to  what  they've  been 
saying?  Q  Ethel!" 

Miss  Reed :  "  I  haven't  been  listening,  exactly." 

Miss  Spaulding :  "You  have!  You  have  been 
eavesdropping ! " 


AND   OTHER  FARCES.  131 

Miss  Reed:  "Eavesdropping  is  listening  through 
a  key-hole,  or  around  a  corner.  This  is  very 
different.  Besides,  it's  Oliver,  and  he's  been  talk- 
ing about  me.  Hark ! "  She  clutches  her  friend's 
hand,  where  they  have  crouched  upon  the  floor  to- 
gether, and  pulls  her  forward  to  the  register.  "  Oh, 
dear,  how  hot  it  is  !  I  wish  they  would  cut  off  the 
heat  down  below." 

Grinnidge,  smoking  peacefully  through  the 
silence  which  his  friend  has  absent-mindedly  let 
follow  upon  his  last  words :  "  Well,  you  seem  dis- 
posed to  take  your  time  about  it." 

Ransom :  "  About  what  ?     Oh,  yes  !     Well  "  — 

Miss  Reed:  «'Sh!     Listen." 

Miss  Spaulding :  "  I  won't  listen  !  It's  shame- 
ful :  it's  wicked !  I  don't  see  how  you  can  do  it, 
Ethel ! "  She  remains,  however,  kneeling  near  the 
register,  and  she  involuntarily  inclines  a  little  more 
toward  it. 

Ransom:  "  —  It  isn't  a  thing  that  I  care  to  shout 
from  the  house-tops."  He  returns  from  the  window 
to  the  chimney-piece.  "  I  wrote  the  rudest  kind  of 
note,  and  sent  back  her  letter  and  her  money  in  it. 
She  had  said  that  she  hoped  our  acquaintance  was 
not  to  end  with  the  summer,  but  that  we  might 


132  THE   SLEEPING-CAB 

sometimes  meet  in  Boston ;  and  I  answered  that 
our  acquaintance  had  ended  already,  and  that  I 
should  be  sorry  to  meet  her  anywhere  again." 

Grinnidge :  "  Well,  if  you  wanted  to  make  an 
ass  of  yourself,  you  did  it  pretty  completely." 

Miss  Reed,  whispering :  "  How  witty  he  is ! 
Those  men  are  always  so  humorous  with  each 
other." 

Ransom  :  "  Yes  ;  I  didn't  do  it  by  halves." 

Miss  Reed,  whispering  :  "  Oh,  that's  funny, 
too!" 

Grinnidge :  "  It  didn't  occur  to  you  that  she 
might  feel  bound  to  pay  you  for  the  first  half- 
dozen,  and  was  embarrassed  how  to  offer  to  pay  for 
them  alone  ?  " 

Miss  Reed :  "  How  he  does  go  to  the  heart  of  the 
matter  ! "  She  presses  Miss  Spaulding's  hand  in  an 
ecstasy  of  approval. 

Ransom :  "  Yes,  it  did  —  afterward." 

Miss  Reed,  in  a  tender  murmur :  "  Oh,  poor 
Oliver ! " 

Ransom :  "  And  it  occurred  to  me  that  she  was 
perfectly  right  in  the  whole  affair." 

Miss  Reed :  "  Oh,  how  generous  !  how  noble  !  " 

Ransom :  "  I  had  had  a  thousand  opportunities, 


AND   OTHER   FAECES.  133 

and  I  hadn't  been  man  enough  to  tell  her  that  I 
was  in  love  with  her." 

Miss  Reed :  "  How  can  he  say  it  right  out  so 
bluntly  ?  But  if  it's  true  "  — 

Ransom  :  "  I  couldn't  speak.  I  was  afraid  of 
putting  an  end  to  the  affair  —  of  frightening  her  — 
disgusting  her." 

Miss  Heed :  "  Oh,  how  little  they  know  us, 
Nettie  ! " 

Ransom :  "  She  seemed  so  much  above  rne  in 
every  way  —  so  sensitive,  so  refined,  so  gentle,  so 
good,  so  angelic  ! " 

Miss  Reed :  "  There  !  Now  do  you  call  it  eaves- 
dropping ?  If  listeners  never  hear  any  good  of 
themselves,  what  do  you  say  to  that  ?  It  proves 
that  I  haven't  been  listening." 

Miss  Spaulding  :  "  ?Sh  !  They're  saying  some- 
thing else." 

Ransom  :  "But  all  that's  neither  here  nor  there. 
I  can  see  now  that  under  the  circumstances  she 
couldn't  as  a  lady  have  acted  otherwise  than  she 
did.  She  was  forced  to  treat  our  whole  acquaint- 
ance as  a  business  matter,  and  I  had  forced  her  to 
do  it." 

Miss  Reed  :  "  You  had,  you  poor  thing  !  " 


134  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

Grinnidge :  "  Well,  what  do  you  intend  to  do 
about  it  ?  " 

Ransom:  "Well"  — 

Miss  Reed :  "  'Sh  !  " 

Miss  Spaulding  :  "  'Sh  !  " 

Ransom :  "  —  that's  what  I  want  to  submit  to 
you,  Grinnidge.  I  must  see  her." 

Grinnidge  :  "  Yes.     I'm  glad  I  mustn't." 

Miss  Reed,  stifling  a  laugh  on  Miss  Spaulding's 
shoulder  :  "  They're  actually  afraid  of  us,  Nettie  ! " 

Ransom  :  "  See  her,  and  go  down  in  the  dust." 

Miss  Reed  :  "  My  very  words  !  " 

Ransom  :  "  I  have  been  trying  to  think  what  was 
the  very  humblest  pie  I  could  eat,  by  way  of  pen- 
ance ;  and  it  appears  to  me  that  I  had  better  begin 
by  saying  that  I  have  come  to  ask  her  for  the 
money  I  refused." 

Miss  Reed,  enraptured :  "  Oh !  doesn't  it  seem 
just  like  —  like  —  inspiration,  Nettie  ?  " 

Miss  Spauldiny:  "'Sh!  Be  quiet,  do!  You'll 
frighten  them  away  !  " 

Grinnidye  :  "  And  then  what  ?  " 

Ransom  :  "  What  then  ?  I  don't  know  what 
then.  But  it  appears  to  me  that,  as  a  gentleman, 
I've  got  nothing  to  do  with  the  result.  All  that 


AND   OTHER   FAECES.  135 

I've  .got  to  do  is  to  submit  to  my  fate,  whatever 
it  is." 

Miss  Heed}  breathlessly :  "  What  princely  cour- 
age !  What  delicate  magnanimity !  Oh,  he 
needn't  have  the  least  fear !  If  I  could  only  tell 
him  that !  " 

Grinnidge,    after    an    interval     of    meditative 
smoking  :  "  Yes,  I  guess  that's  the  best  thing  you 
can  do.     It  will  strike  her  fancy,  if  she's  an  im- 
aginative girl,  and  she'll  think  you  a  fine  fellow." 
Miss  Heed  :  "  Oh,  the  horrid  thing  ! " 
Grinnidge  :    "  If    you    humble    yourself    to    a 
woman  at  all,  do  it  thoroughly.     If  you  go  half- 
way down  she'll  be  tempted  to  push  you  the  rest 
of  the  way.     If  you  flatten  out  at  her  feet  to  begin 
with,  ten  to  one  but  she  will  pick  you  up." 
Ransom :  "  Yes,  that  was  my  idea." 
Miss  Heed :  «  Oh,  was  it,  indeed  !     Well !  " 
Hansom :  "  But  I've  nothing  to  do  with  her  pick- 
ing me  up  or  pushing  me  down.     All  that  I've  got 
to  do  is  to  go  and  surrender  myself." 

Grinnidge :  "  Yes.  Well ;  I  guess  you  can't  go 
too  soon.  I  like  your  company  j  but  I  advise  you 
as  a  friend  not  to  lose  time.  WTiere  does  she 
live  ?  " 


136  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

Ransom :  "  That's  the  remarkable  part  of  it : 
she  lives  in  this  house." 

Miss  Heed  and  Miss  Spaulding,  in  subdued 
chorus:  "Oh!" 

Grinnidge,  taking  his  pipe  out  of  his  mouth  in 
astonishment :  "  No  ! " 

Ransom  :  "  I  just  came  in  here  to  give  my  good 
resolutions  a  rest  while  I  was  screwing  my  courage 
up  to  ask  for  her." 

Miss  Reed :  "  Don't  you  think  he's  very  humor- 
ous ?  Give  his  good  resolutions  a  rest  t  That's 
the  way  he  always  talks." 

Miss  Spaulding :  "  'Sh !  " 

Grinnidge:  "You  said  you  came  for  my  ad- 
vice." 

Ransom :  "  So  I  did.  But  I  didn't  promise  to 
act  upon  it.  Well ! "  He  goes  toward  the  door. 

Grinnidge,  without  troubling  himself  to  rise : 
"Well,  good  luck  to  you !  " 

Miss  Reed:  "How  droll  they  are  with  each 
other !  Don't  you  like  to  hear  them  talk  ?  Oh,  I 
could  listen  all  day." 

Grinnidge,  calling  after  Ransom  :  "You  haven't 
told  me  your  duck's  name." 

Miss  Reed :  "  Is  that  what  they  call  us  ?     Duck  ! 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  137 

Do  you  think  it's  very  respectful,  Nettie  ?     I  don't 
believe  I  like  it.     Or,  yes,  why  not  ?     It's  no  harm 

—  if  I  am  his  duck  !  " 

Hansom,  coming  back :  "  Well,  I  don't  propose 
to  go  shouting  it  round.  Her  name  is  Miss  Reed 

—  Ethel  Keed." 

Miss  Eeed :  "  How  can  he  ?  " 

Grinnidge :  "  Slender,  willowy  party,  with  a  lot 
of  blond  hair  that  looks  as  if  it  might  be  in- 
digenous ?  Rather  pensive-looking  ?  " 

Miss  Heed :  "  Indigenous  !     I  should  hope  so  ! " 

Hansom:  "Yes.  But  she  isn't  pensive.  She's 
awfully  deep.  It  makes  me  shudder  to  think  how 
deep  that  girl  is.  And  when  I  think  of  my  cour- 
age in  daring  to  be  in  love  with  her  —  a  stupid, 
straightforward  idiot  like  me  —  I  begin  to  respect 
myself  in  spite  of  being  such  an  ass.  Well,  I'm 
off.  .  If  I  stay  any  longer  I  shall  never  go."  He 
closes  the  door  after  him,  and  Miss  Heed  instantly 
springs  to  her  feet. 

Miss  Reed  :  "  Now  he'll  have  to  go  down  to  the 
parlor  and  send  up  his  name,  and  that  just  gives 
me  time  to  do  the  necessary  prinking.  You  stay 
here  and  receive  him,  Nettie." 

Miss  Spaulding :    "  Never !    After  what's  hap- 


138  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

pened  I  can  never  look  him  in  the  face  again.  Oh, 
how  low,  and  mean,  and  guilty  I  feel !  " 

Miss  Reed,  with  surprise  :  "  Why,  how  droll ! 
Now  /don't  feel  the  least  so." 

Miss  Spaulding :  "  Oh,  it's  very  different  with 
you.  You're  in  love  with  him." 

Miss  Heed :  "  For  shame,  Nettie  !  I'm  not  in 
love  with  him." 

Miss  Spaulding :  "  And  you  can  explain  and 
justify  it.  But  I  never  can  justify  it  to  myself, 
much  less  to  him.  Let  me  go,  Ethel !  I  shall  tell 
Mrs.  McKnight  that  we  must  change  this  room 
instantly.  And  just  after  I'd  got  it  so  nearly  in 
order!  Go  down  and  receive  him  in  the  parlor, 
Ethel.  I  can't  see  him." 

Miss  Reed  :  "  Keceive  him  in  the  parlor  !  Why, 
Nettie,  dear,  you're  crazy  !  I'm  going  to  accept 
him  :  and  how  can  I  accept  him  —  with  all  the 
consequences  —  in  a  public  parlor  ?  No,  indeed ! 
If  you  won't  meet  him  here  for  a  moment,  just  to 
oblige  me,  you  can  go  into  the  other  room.  Or,  no 
—  you'd  be  listening  to  every  word  through  the 
key-hole,  you're  so  demoralized  !  " 

Miss  Spaulding :  "  Yes,  yes,  I  deserve  your  con- 
tempt, Ethel." 


AND   OTHER  FARCES.  139 

Miss  Reed,  laughing :  "  You  will  have  to  go  out 
for  a  walk,  you  poor  thing ;  and  I'm  not  going  to 
have  you  coining  back  in  five  or  ten  minutes.  You 
have  got  to  stay  out  a  good  hour." 

Miss  Spaulding,  running  to  get  her  things  from 
the  next  room  :  "  Oh,  I'll  stay  out  till  midnight !  " 

Miss  Reed,  responding  to  a  tap  at  the  door : 
"  Ye-e-s  !  Come  in !  —  You're  caught,  Nettie." 

A  maid-servant,  appearing  with  a  card :  "  This 
gentleman  is  asking  for  you  in  the  parlor,  Miss 
Keed." 

Miss  Reed :  "  Oh !  Ask  him  to  come  up  here, 
please.  — Nettie  !  Nettie  ! "  She  calls  to  her  friend 
in  the  next  room.  "  He's  coming  right  up,  and  if 
you  don't  run  you're  trapped." 

Miss  Spaulding,  re-appearing,  cloaked  and  bon- 
neted :  "  I  don't  blame  you,  Ethel,  comparatively 
speaking.  You  can  say  that  everything  is  fair  in 
love.  He  will  like  it,  and  laugh  at  it  in  you, 
because  he'll  like  everything  you've  done.  Besides, 
you've  no  principles,  and  I  have" 

Miss  Reed  :  "  Oh,  I've  lots  of  principles,  Nettie, 
but  I've  no  practice  !  " 

Miss  Spaulding :  "  No  matter.  There's  no  ex- 
cuse for  me.  I  listened  simply  because  I  was  a 


140  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

woman,  and  couldn't  help  it;  and,  oh,  what  will 
he  think  of  me  ?  " 

Miss  Heed:  "I  won't  give  you  away;  if  you 
really  feel  so  badly"  — 

Miss  Spaulding :  "  Oh,  do  you  think  you  can 
keep  from  telling  him,  Ethel  dear  ?  Try !  And  I 
will  be  your  slave  forever  !  "  Steps  are  heard  on 
the  stairs  outside.  "  Oh,  there  he  comes  !  "  She 
dashes  out  of  the  door,  and  closes  it  after  her,  a 
moment  before  the  maid-servant,  followed  by  Mr. 
Ransom,  taps  at  it. 


AND   OTHER   FAECES.  141 


III. 


SCENE  :  Miss  Reed  opens  the  door,  and  receives 
Mr.  Ransom  with  well-affected  surprise  and 
state,  suffering  him  to  stand  awkwardly  on  the 
threshold  for  a  moment. 

She,  coldly  :  «  Oh  !  —  Mr.  Ransom  ! " 

He,  abruptly  :  "  I've  come  "  — 

She:  "Won't  you  come  in  ?  " 

He,  advancing  a  few  paces  into  the  room  :  "  I've 
come  "  — 

She,  indicating  a  chair  :  "Will  you  sit  down  ?  " 

He :  "  I  must  stand  for  the  present.  I've  come 
to  ask  you  for  that  money,  Miss  Reed,  which  I 
refused  yesterday,  in  terms  that  I  blush  to  think 
of.  I  was  altogether  and  wholly  in  the  wrong, 
and  I'm  ready  to  offer  any  imaginable  apology  or 
reparation.  I'm  ready  to  take  the  money  and 
to  sign  a  receipt,  and  then  to  be  dismissed  with 
whatever  ignominy  you  please.  I  deserve  any- 
thing —  everything ! " 


142  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

She :  "  The  money  ?     Excuse  me  ;  I  don't  know 

—  I'm  afraid  that  I'm  not  prepared  to  pay  you 
the  whole  sum  to-day." 

He,  hastily :  "  Oh,  no  matter !  no  matter !  I 
don't  care  for  the  money  now.  I  merely  wish  to 

—  to  assure  you  that  I  thought  you  were  perfectly 
right  in  offering  it,  and  to  —  to  "  — 

She:  "What?" 

He :  «  Nothing.     That  is  —  ah  —  ah  "  — 

She:  "It's  extremely  embarrassing  to  have  peo- 
ple refuse  their  money  when  it's  offered  them,  and 
then  come  the  next  day  for  it,  when  perhaps  it 
isn't  so  convenient  to  pay  it  —  very  embarrassing." 

He,  hotly:  "But  I  tell  you  I  don't  want  the 
money!  I  never  wanted  it,  and  wouldn't  take  it 
on  any  account." 

She:  "Oh!  I  thought  you  said  you  came  to 
get  it  ?  " 

He :  "  I  said  —  I  didn't  say  —  I  meant  —  that  is 

—  ah  —  I "  —    He  stops,  open-mouthed. 

She,  quietly  :    "  I   could   give  you  part  of  the 

money  now." 

He :  "  Oh,  whatever  you  like  ;  it's  indifferent "  — 
She :  "  Please  sit  down  while  I  write  a  receipt." 

She  places  herself  deliberately  at  the  table,  and 


AND    OTHER   FARCES.  143 

opens  her  portfolio.  "I  will  pay  you  now,  Mr. 
Ransom,  for  the  first  six  lessons  you  gave  me  — 
the  ones  before  you  told  me  that  I  could  never 
learn  to  do  anything." 

He,  sinking  mechanically  into  the  chair  she  indi- 
cates :  "  Oh,  just  as  you  like  ! "  He  looks  up  at  the 
ceiling  in  hopeless  bewilderment,  while  she  writes. 

She,  blotting  the  paper  :  "  There  !  And  now  let 
me  offer  you  a  little  piece  of  advice,  Mr.  Ransom, 
which  may  be  useful  to  you  in  taking  pupils 
hereafter." 

He,  bursting  out :  "  I  never  take  pupils  !  " 

She  :  "  Never  take  pupils  !  I  don't  understand. 
You  took  me." 

He,  confusedly  :  "  I  took  you  —  yes.  You 
seemed  to  wish  —  you  seemed  —  the  case  was 
peculiar  — peculiar  circumstances." 

She,  with  severity :  "  May  I  ask  why  the  cir- 
cumstances were  peculiar  ?  I  saw  nothing  peculiar 
about  the  circumstances.  It  seemed  to  me  it  was 
a  very  simple  matter.  I  told  you  that  I  had 
always  had  a  great  curiosity  to  see  whether  I 
could  use  oil  paints,  and  I  asked  you  a  very  plain 
question,  whether  you  would  let  me  study  with 
you.  Didn't  I  ?  " 


144  THE   SLEEPING-CAB 

He:  "Yes." 

She:  "Was  there  anything  wrong  —  anything 
queer  about  my  asking  you  ? " 

He  :  No,  no  !     Not  at  all  —  not  in  the  least." 

She :  "  Didn't  you  wish  me  to  take  the  lessons 
of  you  ?  If  you  didn't,  it  wasn't  kind  of  you  to 
let  me." 

He  :  "  Oh,  I  was  perfectly  willing  —  very  glad 
indeed,  very  much  so  —  certainly  ! " 

She :  "  If  it  wasn't  your  custom  to  take  pupils, 
you  ought  to  have  told  me,  and  I  wouldn't  have 
forced  myself  upon  you." 

He,  desperately :  "  It  wasn't  forcing  yourself 
upon  me.  The  Lord  knows  how  humbly  grateful 
I  was.  It  was  like  a  hope  of  heaven  ! " 

She :  "  Really,  Mr.  Ransom,  this  is  very  strange 
talk.  What  am  I  to  understand  by  it  ?  Why 
should  you  be  grateful  to  teach  me  ?  Why  should 
giving  me  lessons  be  like  a  hope  of  heaven  ?  " 

He:  "Oh,  I  will  tell  you !" 

She:  "Well?" 

He,  after  a  moment  of  agony :  "  Because  to  be 
with  you  "  — 

She:  "Yes?" 

He:  "Because  I  wished  to  be  with  you.     Be- 


AND   OTHER  FARCES.  145 

cause  —  those  days  in  the  woods,  when  you  read, 
and  I"  — 

She :  "  Painted  on  my  pictures  "  — 

He:  "Were  the  happiest  of  my  life.  Because 
—  I  loved  you!" 

She:  "Mr.  Eansom  !  " 

He :  "  Yes,  I  must  tell  you  so.  I  loved  you ;  I 
love  you  still.  I  shall  always  love  you,  no  matter 
what"  — 

She :  "  You  forget  yourself,  Mr.  Kansoin.  Has 
there  been  anything  in  my  manner  —  conduct  —  to 
justify  you  in  using  such  language  to  me  ?  " 

He:  "No  — no"  — 

She :  "  Did  you  suppose  that  because  I  first  took 
lessons  of  you  from  —  from  —  an  enthusiasm  for 
art,  and  then  continued  them  for  —  for  —  amuse- 
ment, that  I  wished  you  to  make  love  to  me  ?  " 

He :  "  No,  I  never  supposed  such  a  thing.  I'm 
incapable  of  it.  I  beseech  you  to  believe  that  no 
one  could  have  more  respect  —  reverence  " —  He 
twirls  his  hat  between  his  hands,  and  casts  an  im- 
ploring glance  at  her. 

She :  "  Oh,  respect  —  reverence !  I  know  what 
they  mean  in  the  mouths  of  men.  If  you  re- 
spected, if  you  reverenced  me,  could  you  dare  to 


146  THE   SLEEPING-CAE, 

tell  me,  after  my  unguarded  trust  of  you  during 
the  past  months,  that  you  had  been  all  the  time 
secretly  in  love  with  me  ?  " 

He,  plucking  up  a  little  courage  :  "  I  don't  see 
that  the  three  things  are  incompatible." 

She:  " Oh,  then  you  acknowledge  that  you  did 
presume  upon  something  you  thought  you  saw  in 
me  to  tell  me  that  you  loved  me,  and  that  you 
were  in  love  with  me  all  the  time  ?  " 

He,  contritely :  "  I  have  no  right  to  suppose  that 
you  encouraged  me  ;  and  yet  —  I  can't  deny  it  now 
—  I  was  in  love  with  you  all  the  time." 

She:  "And  you  never  said  a  word  to  let  me 
believe  that  you  had  any  such  feeling  toward 
me!" 

He:  "I  —  I"- 

She :  "  You  would  have  parted  from  me  without 
a  syllable  to  suggest  it  —  perhaps  parted  from  me 
forever  ? "  After  a  pause  of  silent  humiliation 
for  him :  "  Do  you  call  that  brave  or  generous  ? 
Do  you  call  it  manly  —  supposing,  as  you  hoped, 
that  I  had  any  such  feeling  ?  " 

He :  "No  ;  it  was  cowardly,  it  was  mean,  it  was 
unmanly.  I  see  it  now,  but  I  will  spend  my  life 
in  repairing  the  wrong,  if  you  will  only  let  me." 


AND  OTHER   FAECES.  147 

He  impetuously  advances  some  paces  toward  her, 
and  then  stops,  arrested  by  her  irresponsive 
attitude. 

She,  with  a  light  sigh,  and  looking  down  at  the 
paper,  which  she  has  continued  to  hold  between 
her  hands  :  "  There  was  a  time  —  a  moment  — 
when  I  might  have  answered  as  you  wish." 

He :  "  Oh !  then  there  will  be  again.  If  you 
have  changed  once,  you  may  change  once  more. 
Let  me  hope  that  some  time  —  any  time,  dearest " — 

She,  quenching  him  with  a  look :  "  Mr.  Ransom, 
I  shall  never  change  toward  you!  You  confess 
that  you  had  your  opportunity,  and  that  you  de- 
spised it." 

He  :  "  Oh !  not  despised  it ! " 

She  :  "  Neglected  it." 

He :  "  Not  wilfully  —  no.  I  confess  that  I  was 
stupidly,  vilely,  pusillan  —  pusillan  —  illani "  — 

She:  "'Mously"  — 

He :  "  Thanks  —  'mously  unworthy  of  it ;  but  I 
didn't  despise  it ;  I  didn't  neglect  it ;  and  if  you 
will  only  let  me  show  by  a  lifetime  of  devotion 
how  dearly  and  truly  I  have  loved  you  from  the 
first  moment  I  drove  that  cow  away  "  — 

She:  "Mr.  Kansom,   I    have  told  you  that  I 


148  THE  SLEEPING-CAB 

should  never  change  toward  you.  That  cow  was 
nothing  when  weighed  in  the  balance  against  your 
being  willing  to  leave  a  poor  girl,  whom  you  sup- 
posed interested  in  you,  and  to  whom  you  had  paid 
the  most  marked  attention,  without  a  word  to  show 
her  that  you  cared  for  her.  What  is  a  cow,  or  a 
whole  herd  of  cows,  as  compared  with  obliging  a 
young  lady  to  offer  you  money  that  you  hadn't 
earned,  and  then  savagely  flinging  it  back  in  her 
face  ?  A  yoke  of  oxen  would  be  nothing  —  or  a 
mad  bull." 

He :  "  Oh,  I  acknowledge  it !     I  confess  it." 

She :  "  And  you  own  that  I  am  right  in  refusing 
to  listen  to  you  now  ?  " 

He,  desolately  :  "  Yes,  yes." 

She :  "  It  seems  that  you  gave  me  lessons  in 
order  to  be  with  me,  and  if  possible  to  interest  me 
in  you ;  and  then  you  were  going  away  without  a 
word." 

He,  with  a  groan  :  "  It  was  only  because  I  was 
afraid  to  speak." 

She  :  "  Oh,  is  that  any  excuse  ?  " 

He  :  "  No  ;  none." 

She :  "  A  man  ought  always  to  have  courage." 
After  a  pause,  in  which  he  stands  before  her  with 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  149 

bowed  head :  "  Then  there's  nothing  for  me  but  to 
give  you  this  money." 

He,  with  sudden  energy  :  "  This  is  too  much  ! 
I"- 

She,  offering  him  the  bank-notes  :  "  No ;  it  is 
the  exact  sum.  I  counted  it  very  carefully.7' 

He :  "  I  won't  take  it ;  I  can't  !  I'll  never 
take  it ! " 

She,  standing  with  the  money  in  her  outstretched 
hand  :  "  I  have  your  word  as  a  gentleman  that  you 
will  take  it." 

He,  gasping:  "Oh,  well  —  I  will  take  it — I 
will " —  He  clutches  the  money,  and  rushes  toward 
the  door.  "  Good-evening  ;  ah  —  good-by  "  — 

She,  calling  after  him :  "  The  receipt,  Mr.  Ean- 
som  !  Please  sign  this  receipt !  "  She  waves  the 
paper  in  the  air. 

He  :  "  Oh,  yes,  certainly  !  Where  is  it  —  what 
—  which  "  —  He  rushes  back  to  her,  and  seizing 
the  receipt,  feels  blindly  about  for  the  pen  and  ink. 
"Where  shall  I  sign?" 

She :  "  Eead  it  first." 

He  :  "  Oh,  it's  all  —  all  right "  — 

She:  "I  insist  upon  your  reading  it.  It's  a  busi 
ness  transaction.  Eead  it  aloud." 


150  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

He,  desperately:  "Well,  well!"  He  reads. 
"'Received  from  Miss  Ethel  Keed,  in  full,  for 
twenty-five  lessons  in  oil-painting,  one  hundred 
and  twenty-five  dollars,  and  her  hand,  heart,  and 
dearest  love  forever.' "  He  looks  up  at  her. 
"  Ethel ! " 

She,  smiling :  "  Sign  it,  sign  it ! " 

He,  catching  her  in  his  arms  and  kissing  her : 
"  Oh,  yes  —  here  !  " 

She,  pulling  a  little  away  from  him,  and  laugh- 
ing :  "  Oh,  oh !  I  only  wanted  one  signature ! 
Twenty  autographs  are  too  many,  unless  you'll  let 
me  trade  them  off,  as  the  collectors  do." 

He :  "  No ;  keep  them  all !  I  couldn't  think  of 
letting  any  one  else  have  them.  One  more  !  " 

She  :  "  No  ;  it's  quite  enough  !  "  She  frees 
herself,  and  retires  beyond  the  table.  "This 
unexpected  affection  ''  — 

He :  "  Is  it  unexpected  —  seriously  ?  " 

She :  "  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

He  :  "  Oh,  nothing  !  " 

She :  "  Yes,  tell  me  !  " 

He  :  "  I  hoped  —  I  thought  —  perhaps  —  that 
you  might  have  been  prepared  for  some  such 
demonstration  on  my  part." 


AND   OTHER   FAECES.  151 

She  :  "  And  why  did  you  think  —  hope  —  per- 
haps —  that,  Mr.  Bansom,  may  I  ask  ?  " 

He :  "  If  I  hadn't,  how  should  I  have  dared  to 
speak  ?  " 

She :  "  Dared  ?  You  were  obliged  to  speak  ! 
Well,  since  it's  all  over,  I  don't  mind  saying  that  I 
did  have  some  slight  apprehensions  that  something 
in  the  way  of  a  declaration  might  be  extorted  from 
you." 

He  :  "  Extorted  ?  Oh  !  "  He  makes  an  impas- 
sioned rush  toward  her. 

She,  keeping  the  table  between  them  :  "  No,  no." 

He  :  "  Oh,  I  merely  wished  to  ask  why  you  chose 
to  make  me  suffer  so,  after  I  had  come  to  the 
point." 

She :  "  Ask  it  across  the  table,  then."  After  a 
moment's  reflection,  "  I  made  you  suffer  —  I  made 
you  suffer  —  so  that  you  might  have  a  realizing 
sense  of  what  you  had  made  me  suffer." 

He,  enraptured  by  this  confession :  "  Oh,  you 
angel ! " 

She,  with  tender  magnanimity  :  "  No ;  only  a 
woman  —  a  poor,  trusting,  foolish  woman  !  "  She 
permits  him  to  surround  the  table,  with  imaginable 
results.  Then,  with  her  head  on  his  shoulder: 


152  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

"  You'll  never  let  ine  regret  it,  will  you,  darling  ? 
You'll  never  oblige  me  to  punish  you  again,  dearest, 
will  you  ?  Oh,  it  hurt  me  far  worse  to  see  your 
pain  than  it  did  you  to  —  to  —  feel  it !  "  On  the 
other  side  of  the  partition,  Mr.  Grinnidge's  pipe 
falls  from  his  lips,  parted  in  slumber,  and  shivers 
to  atoms  on  the  register.  "  Oh  ! "  She  flies  at  the 
register  with  a  shriek  of  dismay,  and  is  about  to 
close  it.  "  That  wretch  has  been  listening,  and  has 
heard  every  word ! " 

He,  preventing  her  :  "  What  wretch  ?    Where  ?  " 

She:  "Don't  you  hear  him,  mumbling  and 
grumbling  there  ?  " 

Grinnidge  :  "  Well,  I  swear  !  Cash  value  of 
twenty-five  dollars,  and  untold  toil  in  coloring  it !  " 

Ransom,  listening  with  an  air  of  mystification : 
"Who's  that?" 

She:  "Gmnmidge,  Grimmidge —  whatever  you 
called  him.  Oh ! "  She  arrests  herself  in  con- 
sternation. "  Now  I  have  done  it !  " 

He :  "  Done  what  ?  " 

She:  " Oh  —  nothing  ! » 

He  :  "  I  don't  understand.  Do  you  mean  to  say 
that  my  friend  Grinnidge's  room  is  on  the  other 
side  of  the  wall,  and  that  you  can  hear  him  talk 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  153 

through  the  register  ?  "  She  preserves  the  silence 
of  abject  terror.  He  stoops  over  the  register,  and 
calls  down  it.  "  Grinnidge  !  Hallo  !  " 

Grinnidge  :  "  Hallo,  yourself  !  " 

Ransom,  to  Miss  Reed :  "  Sounds  like  the  ghostly 
squeak  of  the  phonograph."  To  Grinnidge : 
"  What's  the  trouble  ?  " 

Grinnidge  :  "  Smashed  my  pipe.  Dozed  off  and 
let  it  drop  on  this  infernal  register." 

Ransom,  turning  from  the  register  with  impres- 
sive deliberation  :  "  Miss  Eeed,  may  I  ask  how  you 
came  to  know  that  his  name  was  Gummidge,  or 
Grimmidge,  or  whatever  I  called  him  ?  " 

She  :  Oh,  dearest,  I  can't  tell  you  !  Or  —  yes,  I 
had  better."  Impulsively  :  "  I  will  judge  you  by 
myself.  /  could  forgive  you  anything  !  " 

He,  doubtfully  :   "  Oh,  could  you  ?  " 

She :  "  Everything  !  I  had  —  I  had  better  make 
a  clean  breast  of  it.  Yes,  I  had.  Though  I  don't 
like  to.  I  —  I  listened  !  " 

He:  "Listened?" 

She  :  "  Through  the  register  to  —  to  —  what  — 
you  —  were  saying  before  you  —  came  in  here." 
Her  head  droops. 

He  :  "  Then  you  heard  everything  ?  " 


154  THE  SLEEPING-CAR 

She  :  "  Kill  me,  but  don't  look  so  at  me  !  It  was 
accidental  at  first  —  indeed  it  was ;  and  then  I 
recognized  your  voice ;  and  then  I  knew  you  were 
talking  about  me ;  and  I  had  so  much  at  stake ; 
and  I  did  love  you  so  dearly !  You  will  forgive 
me,  darling?  It  wasn't  as  if  I  were  listening 
with  any  bad  motive." 

He,  taking  her  in  his  arms  :  "  Forgive  you  ?  Of 
course  I  do.  But  you  must  change  this  room  at 
once,  Ethel ;  you  see  you  hear  everything  on  the 
other  side,  too."  , 

She :  "  Oh,  not  if  you  whisper  on  this.  You 
couldn't  hear  us  ? "  At  a  dubious  expression  of 
his :  "  You  didn't  hear  us  ?  If  you  did,  I  can 
never  forgive  you  !  " 

He :  "  It  was  accidental  at  first  —  indeed  it  was  ; 
and  then  I  recognized  your  voice ;  and  then  I 
knew  you  were  talking  about  me  ;  and  I  had  so 
much  at  stake  ;  and  I  did  love  you  so  dearly  ! " 

She :  "  All  that  has  nothing  whatever  to  do  with 
it.  How  much  did  you  hear  ?  " 

He,  with  exemplary  meekness  :  "  Only  what  you 
were  saying  before  Grinnidge  came  in.  You  didn't 
whisper  then.  I  had  to  wait  there  for  him 
while  "  - 


AND   OTHER  FARCES.  155 

She  :  "  While  you  were  giving  your  good  resolu- 
tions a  rest  ?  " 

He  :  "  While  I  was  giving  my  good  resolutions  a 
rest.'7 

She :  "  And  that  accounts  for  your  determina- 
tion to  humble  yourself  so  ?  " 

He :  "  It  seemed  perfectly  providential  that  I 
should  have  known  just  what  conditions  you  were 
going  to  exact  of  me." 

She :  "  Oh,  don't  make  light  of  it !  I  can  tell 
you  it's  a  very  serious  matter." 

He :  "  It  was  very  serious  for  me  when  you 
didn't  meet  my  self-abasement  as  you  had  led  me 
to  expect  you  would." 

She :  "  Don't  make  fun !  I'm  trying  to  think 
whether  I  can  forgive  you." 

He,  with  insinuation  :  "Don't  you  believe  you 
could  think  better  if  you  put  your  head  on  my 
shoulder  ?  " 

She :  "  Nonsense  !  Then  I  should  forgive  you 
without  thinking."  After  a  season  of  reflection : 
"  No,  I  can't  forgive  you.  I  never  could  forgive 
eavesdropping.  It's  too  low." 

He,  in  astonishment :  "  Why,  you  did  it  your- 
self!" 


156  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

She:  "But  you  began  it.  Besides,  it's  very 
different  for  a  man.  Women  are  weak,  poor,  help- 
less creatures.  They  have  to  use  finesse.  But  a 
man  should  be  above  it.'-' 

He  :  "  You  said  you  could  forgive  me  anything." 

She :  "  Ah,  but  I  didn't  know  what  you'd  been 
doing ! " 

He,  with  pensive  resignation,  and  a  feint  of 
going  :  "  Then  I  suppose  it's  all  over  between  us." 

She,  relenting :  "  If  you  could  think  of  any 
reason  why  I  should  forgive  you  "  — 

He :  "  I  can't." 

She,  after  consideration  :  "  Do  you  suppose  Mr. 
Grumage,  or  Grimidge,  heard  too  ?  " 

He :  "  No ;  Grinnidge  is  a  very  high-principled 
fellow,  and  wouldn't  listen ;  besides,  he  wasn't 
there,  you  know." 

She :  "  Well,  then,  I  will  forgive  you  on  these 
grounds."  He  instantly  catches  her  to  his  heart. 
"But  these  alone,  remember." 

He,  rapturously  :  "  Oh,  on  any  !  " 

She,  tenderly  :  "  And  you'll  always  be  devoted  ? 
And  nice  ?  And  not  try  to  provoke  me  ?  Or  neg- 
lect me  ?  Or  anything  ?  " 

He:  "Always!    Never!" 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  157 

She  :  "  Oh,  you  dear,  sweet,  simple  old  thing  — 
how  I  do  love  you  !  " 

Grinnidge,  who  has  been  listening  attentively  to 
every  word  at  the  register  at  his  side  :  "  Ransom, 
if  you  don't  want  me  to  go  stark  mad,  shut  the 
register  !  " 

Hansom,  about  to  comply  :  "  Oh,  poor  old  man  ! 
I  forgot  it  was  open  !  " 

Miss  Reed,  preventing  him :  "  No  !  If  he  has 
been  vile  enough  to  listen  at  a  register,  let  him 
suffer.  Come,  sit  down  here,  and  I'll  tell  you  just 
when  I  began  to  care  for  you.  It  was  long  before 
the  cow.  Do  you  remember  that  first  morning 
after  you  arrived  "  —  She  drags  him  close  to  the 
register,  so  that  every  word  may  tell  upon  the 
envious  Grinnidge,  on  whose  manifestations  of 
acute  despair,  a  rapid  curtain  descends. 


THE    ELEVATOR. 

FARCE. 


THE   ELEVATOR. 


I. 

SCENE  :  Through  the  curtained  doorway  of  Mrs. 
Edward  Robertas  pretty  drawing-room,  in  Hotel 
Bellingham,  shows  the  snowy  and  gleaming 
array  of  a  table  set  for  dinner,  under  the  dim 
light  of  gas-burners  turned  low.  An  air  of 
expectancy  pervades  the  place,  and  the  uneasi- 
ness of  Mr.  Roberts,  in  evening  dress,  expresses 
something  more  as  he  turns  from  a  glance  into 
the  dining-room,  and  still  holding  the  portiere 
with  one  hand,  takes  out  his  watch  with  the 
other. 

Mr.  Roberts  to  Mrs.  Roberts  entering  the  draw- 
ing-room from  regions  beyond :  "  My  dear,  it's  six 
o'clock.  What  can  have  become  of  your  aunt  ?  " 

Mrs.  Roberts,  with  a  little  anxiety :  "  That  was 
just  what  I  was  going  to  ask.  She's  never  late ; 
and  the  children  are  quite  heart-broken.  They 
161 


162  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

had  counted  upon  seeing  her,  and  talking  Christ- 
mas a  little  before  they  were  put  to  bed." 

Roberts  :  "  Very  singular  her  not  coming !  Is 
she  going  to  begin  standing  upon  ceremony  with 
us,  and  not  come  till  the  hour  ?  " 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  Nonsense,  Edward !  She's  been 
detained.  Of  course  she'll  be  here  in  a  moment. 
How  impatient  you  are  !  " 

Roberts :  "  You  must  profit  by  me  as  an  awful 
example." 

Mrs.  Roberts,  going  about  the  room,  and  be- 
stowing little  touches  here  and  there  on  its  orna- 
ments :  "  If  you'd  had  that  new  cook  to  battle 
with  over  this  dinner,  you'd  have  learned  patience 
by  this  time  without  any  awful  example." 

Roberts,  dropping  nervously  into  the  nearest 
chair:  "I  hope  she  isn't  behind  time." 

Mrs.  Roberts,  drifting  upon  the  sofa,  and  dispos- 
ing her  train  effectively  on  the  carpet  around  her : 
"  She's  before  time.  The  dinner  is  in  the  last 
moment  of  ripe  perfection  now,  when  we  must 
still  give  people  fifteen  minutes'  grace."  She 
studies  the  convolutions  of  her  train  absent- 
mindedly. 

Roberts,  joining  in  its   perusal:    "Is   that  the 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  ,  163 

way  you've  arranged  to  be  sitting  when  people 
come  in  ?  " 

Mrs.  Roberts:  "Of  course  not.  I  shall  get  up 
to  receive  them." 

Roberts:  "That's  rather  a  pity.  To  destroy 
such  a  lovely  pose." 

Mrs.  Roberts  :  "  Do  you  like  it  ?  " 

Roberts  :  "  It's  divine." 

Mrs.  Roberts  :  "  You  might  throw  me  a  kiss." 

Roberts :  "  No ;  if  it  happened  to  strike  on  that 
train  anywhere,  it  might  spoil  one  of  the  folds. 
I  can't  risk  it."  A  ring  is  heard  at  the  apart- 
ment door.  They  spring  to  their  feet  simultane- 
ously. 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  There's  Aunt  Mary  now  !  "  She 
calls  into  the  vestibule,  "  Aunt  Mary  ! " 

Dr.  Lawton,  putting  aside  the  vestibule  portidre, 
with  affected  timidity :  "  Very  sorry.  Merely  a 
father." 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  Oh !  Dr.  Lawton  ?  I  am  so  glad  to 
see  you !  "  She  gives  him  her  hand  :  "  I  thought 
it  was  my  aunt.  We  can't  understand  why  she 
hasn't  come.  Why  !  where's  Miss  Lawton  ?  " 

Lawton :  "  That  is  precisely  what  I  was  going 
to  ask  you." 


164  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

Mrs.  Roberts  :  "  Why,  she  isn't  here." 

Lawton:  "So  it  seems.  I  left  her  with  the 
carriage  at  the  door  when  I  started  to  walk  here. 
She  called  after  nie  down  the  stairs  that  she 
would  be  ready  in  three  seconds,  and  begged  me 
to  hurry,  so  that  we  could  come  in  together,  and 
not  let  people  know  I'd  saved  half  a  dollar  by 
walking." 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  She's  been  detained  too  !  " 

Roberts,  coming  forward  :  "  Now  you  know  what 
it  is  to  have  a  delinquent  Aunt-Mary -in-law." 

Lawton,  shaking  hands  with  him :  "  0  Eoberts ! 
Is  that  you  ?  It's  astonishing  how  little  one 
makes  of  the  husband  of  a  lady  who  gives  a 
dinner.  In  my  time  —  a  long  time  ago  —  he  used 
to  carve.  But  nowadays,  when  everything  is 
served  a  la  Russe,  he  might  as  well  be  abolished. 
Don't  you  think,  on  the  whole,  Roberts,  you'd 
better  not  have  come  ?  " 

Roberts:  "Well,  you  see,  I  had  no  excuse.  I 
hated  to  say  an  engagement  when  I  hadnrt  any." 

Lawton  :  "  Oh,  I  understand.  You  wanted  to 
come.  We  all  do,  when  Mrs.  Koberts  will  let  us." 
He  goes  and  sits  down  by  Mrs.  Roberts,  who 
has  taken  a  more  provisional  pose  on  the  sofa. 


AND   OTHER   FAECES.  165 

"  Mrs.  Roberts,  you're  the  only  woman  in  Boston 
who  could  hope  to  get  people,  with  a  fireside  of 
their  own  —  or  a  register  —  out  to  a  Christmas 
dinner.  You  know  I  still  wonder  at  your  effront- 
ery a  little  ?  " 

Mrs.  Roberts,  laughing :  "  I  knew  I  should  catch 
you  if  I  baited  my  hook  with  your  old  friend." 

Lawton :  "Yes,  nothing  would  have  kept  me 
away  when  I  heard  Bemis  was  coming.  But  he 
doesn't  seem  so  inflexible  in  regard  to  me.  Where 
is  he  ?  " 

Mrs.  Roberts:  "I'm  sure  I  don't  know.  I'd  no 
idea  I  was  giving  such  a  formal  dinner.  But 
everybody,  beginning  with  my  own  aunt,  seems 
to  think  it  a  ceremonious  occasion.  There  are  only 
to  be  twelve.  Do  you  know  the  Millers  ?  " 

Lawton :  "  No,  thank  goodness  !  One  meets 
some  people  so  often  that  one  fancies  one's  weari- 
ness of  them  reflected  in  their  sympathetic  counte- 
nances. Who  are  these  acceptably  novel  Millers  ?  " 

Mrs.  Roberts:  "Do  explain  the  Millers  to  the 
doctor,  Edward." 

Roberts,  standing  on  the  hearth-rug,  with  his 
thumbs  in  his  waistcoat  pockets  :  "  They  board." 

Lawton :  "  Genus.     That  accounts  for  their  will- 


166  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

ingness  to  flutter  round  your  evening  lamp  when 
they  ought  to  be  singeing  their  wings  at  their 
own.  Well,  species  ?  " 

Roberts :  "  They're  very  nice  young  newly  mar- 
ried people.  He's  something  or  other  of  some 
kind  of  manufactures.  And  Mrs.  Miller  is  dis- 
posed to  think  that  all  the  other  ladies  are  as  fond 
of  him  as  she  is." 

Mrs.  Roberts  :  "  Oh !     That  is  not  so,  Edward." 

Lawton:  "You  defend  your  sex,  as  women 
always  do.  But  you'll  admit  that,  as  your  friend, 
Mrs.  Miller  may  have  this  foible." 

Mrs.  Roberts:  "I  admit  nothing  of  the  kind. 
And  we've  invited  another  young  couple  who 
haven't  gone  to  housekeeping  yet  —  the  Curwens. 
And  he  has  the  same  foible  as  Mrs.  Miller."  Mrs. 
Roberts  takes  out  her  handkerchief,  and  laughs 
into  it. 

Lawton :  "  That  is,  if  Mrs.  Miller  has  it,  which 
we  both  deny.  Let  us  hope  that  Mrs.  Miller  and 
Mr.  Curwen  may  not  get  to  making  eyes  at  each 
other." 

Roberts :  "  And  Mr.  Bemis  ancThis  son  complete 
the  list.  Why,  Agnes,  there  are  only  ten.  You 
said  there  were  twelve." 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  167 

Mrs.  Roberts  :  "  Well,  never  mind.  I  meant  ten. 
I  forgot  that  the  Somerses  declined."  A  ring  is 
heard.  "  Ah !  that's  Aunt  Mary."  She  runs  into 
the  vestibule,  and  is  heard  exclaiming  without: 
"  Why,  Mrs.  Miller,  is  it  you  ?  I  thought  it  was 
my  aunt.  Where  is  Mr.  Miller?" 

Mrs.  Miller,  entering  the  drawing-room  arm  in 
arm  with  her  hostess  :  "  Oh,  he'll  be  here  directly. 
I  had  to  let  him  run  back  for  my  fan." 

Mrs.  Roberts:  "Well,  we're  very  glad  to  have 
you  to  begin  with.  Let  me  introduce  Dr.  Lawton." 

Mrs.  Miller,  in  a  polite  murmur :  '•  Dr.  Lawton." 
In  a  louder  tone :  "  0  Mr.  Eoberts  ! " 

Lawton :  "  You  see,  Roberts  ?  The  same  ag- 
grieved surprise  at  meeting  you  here  that  I 
felt." 

Mrs.  Miller:  "What  in  the  world  do  you 
mean  ?  " 

Lawton :  "  Don't  you  think  that  when  a  husband 
is  present  at  his  wife's  dinner  party  he  repeats 
the  mortifying  superfluity  of  a  bridegroom  at  a 
wedding  ?  " 

Mrs.  Miller :  "  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  what  you 
mean.  I  should  never  think  of  giving  a  dinner 
without  Mr.  Miller." 


168  THE    SLEEPING-CAK 

Lawton:  "No?"  A  ring  is  heard.  "  There's 
Bemis." 

Mrs.  Miller:  "It's  Mr.  Miller." 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  Aunt  Mary  at  last ! "  As  she 
bustles  toward  the  door :  "  Edward,  there  are 
twelve  —  Aunt  Mary  and  Willis." 

Roberts :  "  Oh,  yes.     I  totally  forgot  Willis." 

Lawton:  "  Who's  Willis  ?" 

Roberts:  "Willis?  Oh,  Willis  is  niy  wife's 
brother.  We  always  have  him." 

Lawton  :  "  Oh,  yes,  Campbell." 

Mrs.  Roberts,  without :  "  Mr.  Bemis  !  So  kind 
of  you  to  come  on  Christmas." 

Mr.  Bemis,  without :  "  So  kind  of  you  to  ask  us 
houseless  strangers." 

Mrs.  Roberts,  without :  "  I  ran  out  here,  think- 
ing it  was  my  aunt.  She's  played  us  a  trick,  and 
hasn't  come  yet." 

Bemis,  entering  the  drawing-room  with  Mrs. 
Roberts:  "I  hope  she  won't  fail  altogether.  I 
haven't  met  her  for  twenty  years,  and  I  counted 
so  much  upon  the  pleasure  —  Hello,  Lawton !  " 

Lawton:  "Hullo,  old  fellow!"  They  fly  at 
each  other,  and  shake  hands.  "'Glad  to  see  you 
again." 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  169 

Semis,  reaching  his  left  hand  to  Mr.  Roberts, 
while  Mr.  Lawton  keeps  his  right :  "  Ah !  Mr. 
Koberts." 

Lawton :  "  Oh,  never  mind  kirn.  He's  merely 
the  husband  of  the  hostess." 

Mrs.  Miller,  to  Roberts :  "  What  does  he  mean  ?  " 

Roberts  :  "  Oh,  nothing.  Merely  a  joke  he's  ex- 
perimenting with." 

Lawton  to  Bemis :  "  Where's  your  boy  ?  " 

Bemis :  "  He'll  be  here  directly.  He  preferred 
to  walk.  Where's  your  girl  ?  " 

Lawton :  "  Oh,  she'll  come  by  and  by.  She  pre- 
ferred to  drive." 

Mrs.  Roberts,  introducing  them :  "  Mr.  Bemis, 
have  you  met  Mrs.  Miller  ? "  She  drifts  away 
again,  manifestly  too  uneasy  to  resume  even  a 
provisional  pose  on  the  sofa,  and  walks  detachedly 
about  the  room. 

Bemis :  "  What  a  lovely  apartment  Mrs.  Roberts 
has." 

Mrs.  Miller :  "  Exquisite  !  But  then  she  has 
such  perfect  taste." 

Bemis,  to  Mrs.  Roberts,  who  drifts  near  them : 
"We  were  talking  about  your  apartment,  Mrs. 
Roberts.  It's  charming." 


170  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  It  is  nice.  It's  the  ideal  way 
of  living.  All  on  one  floor.  No  stairs.  Nothing." 

Semis :  "  Yes,  when  once  you  get  here  !  But 
that  little  matter  of  five  pair  up  "  — 

Mrs.  Roberts:  "You  don't  mean  to  say  you 
ivalked  up !  Why  in  the  world  didn't  you  take 
the  elevator  ?  " 

Bemis :  "  I  didn't  know  you  had  one." 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  It's  the  only  thing  that  makes 
life  worth  living  in  a  flat.  All  these  apartment 
hotels  have  them." 

Semis :  "  Bless  me  !  Well,  you  see,  I've  been 
away  from  Boston  so  long,  and  am  back  so  short  a 
time,  that  I  can't  realize  your  luxuries  and  con- 
veniences. In  Florence  we  always  walk  up. 
They  have  ascenseurs  in  a  few  great  hotels,  and 
they  brag  of  it  in  immense  signs  on  the  sides  of 
the  building." 

Lawton :  "What  pastoral  simplicity!  We  are 
elevated  here  to  a  degree  that  you  can't  conceive 
of,  gentle  shepherd.  Has  yours  got  an  air-cushion, 
Mrs.  Koberts  ?  " 

Mrs.  Roberts  :  "  An  air-cushion  ?     What's  that  ?  " 

Lawton :  "  The  only  thing  that  makes  your  life 
worth  a  moment's  purchase  in  an  elevator.  You 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  171 

get  in  with  a  glass  of  water,  a  basket  of  eggs,  and 
a  file  of  the  ( Daily  Advertiser.'  They  cut  the 
elevator  loose  at  the  top,  and  you  drop." 

Both  Ladies:  "Oh!" 

Lawton :  "  In  three  seconds  you  arrive  at  the 
ground-floor,  reading  your  file  of  the  (  Daily 
Advertiser ; '  not  an  egg  broken  nor  a  drop  spilled. 
I  saw  it  done  in  a  New  York  hotel.  The  air  is 
compressed  under  the  elevator,  and  acts  as  a  sort 
of  ethereal  buffer." 

Mrs.  Roberts.:  "And  why  don't  we  always  go 
down  in  that  way  ?  " 

Lawton:  "Because  sometimes  the  walls  of  the 
elevator  shaft  give  out." 

Mrs.  Roberts  :  "  And  what  then  ?  " 

Lawton  :  "  Then  the  elevator  stops  more  abruptly. 
I  had  a  friend  who  tried  it  when  this  happened." 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  And  what  did  he  do  ?  " 

Lawton :  "  Stepped  out  of  the  elevator ;  laughed ; 
cried ;  went  home :  got  into  bed :  and  did  not  get 
up  for  six  weeks.  Nervous  shock.  He  was 
fortunate." 

Mrs.  Miller :  "  I  shouldn't  think  you'd  want  an 
air-cushion  on  your  elevator,  Mrs.  Roberts." 

Mrs.   Roberts:    "No,   indeed!      Horrid!"     The 


172  THE  SLEEPING-CAR 

bell  rings.  "Edward,  you  go  and  see  if  that's 
Aunt  Mary." 

Mrs.  Miller:  "It's  Mr.  Miller,  I  know." 

Bemis:  "Or  my  son." 

Lawton :  "  My  voice  is  for  Mrs.  Roberts's 
brother.  I've  given  up  all  hopes  of  my  daughter." 

Roberts,  without :  "  Oh,  Curwen  !  Glad  to  see 
you  !  Thought  you  were  my  wife's  aunt." 

Lawton,  at  a  suppressed  sigh  from  Mrs.  Roberts  : 
"  It's  one  of  his  jokes,  Mrs.  Koberts.  Of  course 
it's  your  aunt." 

Mrs.  Roberts,  through  her  set  teeth,  smilingly  : 
"  Oh,  if  it  is,  I'll  make  him  suffer  for  it." 

Mr.  Curwen,  without :  u  No,  I  hated  to  wait,  so 
I  walked  up." 

Lawton :  "  It  is  Mr.  Curwen,  after  all,  Mrs. 
Roberts.  Now  let  me  see  how  a  lady  transmutes 
a  frown  of  threatened  vengeance  into  a  smile  of 
society  welcome." 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  Well,  look  !  "  To  Mr.  Curwen, 
who  enters,  followed  by  her  husband :  "  Ah,  Mr. 
Curwen !  So  glad  to  see  you.  You  know  all  our 
friends  here  —  Mrs.  Miller,  Dr.  Lawton,  and  Mr. 
Bemis  ?  " 

Cunven,  smiling  and  bowing,  and  shaking  hands 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  173 

right  and  left:  "Very  glad  —  very  happy  — 
pleased  to  know  you." 

Mrs.  Roberts,  behind  her  fan  to  Dr.  Lawton: 
"  Didn't  I  do  it  beautifully  ?  " 

Lawton,  behind  his  hand  :  "  Wonderfully !  And 
so  unconscious  of  the  fact  that  he  hasn't  his  wife 
with  him." 

Mrs.  Roberts,  in  great  astonishment,  to  Mr. 
Curwen :  "  Where  in  the  world  is  Mrs.  Curwen  ?  " 

Curwen  :  "  Oh  —  oh  —  she'll  be  here.  I  thought 
she  was  here.  She  started  from  home  with  two 
right-hand  gloves,  and  I  had  to  go  back  for  a  left, 
and  I  —  I  suppose  —  Good  heavens  !  "  pulling 
the  glove  -out  of  his  pocket.  "I  ought  to  have 
sent  it  to  her  in  the  ladies'  dressing-room."  He 
remains  with  the  glove  held  up  before  him,  in 
spectacular  stupefaction. 

Lawton:  "Only  imagine  what  Mrs.  Curwen 
would  be  saying  of  you  if  she  were  in  the  dress- 
ing-room." 

Roberts :  "  Mr.  Curwen  felt  so  sure  she  was 
there  that  he  wouldn't  wait  to  take  the  elevator, 
and  walked  up."  Another  ring  is  heard.  "  Shall 
I  go  and  meet  your  aunt  now,  my  dear  ?  " 

Mrs.  Roberts:  "No,  indeed!     She  may  come  in 


174  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

now  with  all  the  formality  she  chooses,  and  I  will 
receive  her  excuses  in  state."  She  waves  her  fan 
softly  to  and  fro,  concealing  a  murmur  of  trepida- 
tion under  an  indignant  air,  till  the  portiere  opens, 
and  Mr.  Willis  Campbell  enters.  Then  Mrs. 
Roberts  breaks  in  nervous  agitation  "Why, 
Willis  !  Where's  Aunt  Mary  ?  " 

Mrs.  Miller  :  "And  Mr.  Miller  ?  " 

Curwen :  "  And  Mrs.  Curwen  ?  " 

Lawton :  "  And  my  daughter  ?  " 

Bemis  :  "  And  my  son  ?  " 

Mr.  Campbell,  looking  tranquilly  round  on  the 
faces  of  his  interrogators  :  "  Is  it  a  conundrum  ?  " 

Mrs.  Roberts,  mingling  a  real  distress  with  an 
effort  of  mock-heroic  solemnity  :  "  It  is  a  tragedy  ! 
0  Willis  dear !  it's  what  you  see  — what  you  hear  ; 
a  niece  without  an  aunt,  a  wife  without  a  husband, 
a  father  without  a  son,  and  another  father  with- 
out a  daughter." 

Roberts  :  "  And  a  dinner  getting  cold,  and  a  cook 
getting  hot." 

Lawton  :  "  And  you  are  expected  to  account  for 
the  whole  situation." 

Campbell :  "  Oh,  I  understand !  I  don't  know 
what  your  little  game  is,  Agnes,  but  I  can  wait 
and  see.  Pm  not  hungry." 


AND   OTHER   FAECES.  175 

Mrs.  Roberts:  "Willis,  do  you  think  I  would 
try  and  play  a  trick  on  you,  if  I  could  ?  " 

Campbell:  "I  think  you  can't.  Come,  now, 
Agnes  !  It's  a  failure.  Own  up,  and  bring  the 
rest  of  the  company  out  of  the  next  room.  I  sup- 
pose almost  anything  is  allowable  at  this  festive 
season,  but  this  is  pretty  feeble." 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  Indeed,  indeed,  they  are  not 
there." 

Campbell :  "  Where  are  they,  then  ?  " 

All :  "  That's  what  we  don't  know." 

Campbell :  "  Oh,  come,  now  !  that's  a  little  too 
thin.  You  don't  know  where  any  of  all  these 
blood-relations  and  connections  by  marriage  are  ? 
Well,  search  me  ! " 

Mrs.  Roberts,  in  open  distress :  "  Oh,  I'm  sure 
something  must  have  happened  to  Aunt  Mary  !  " 

Mrs.  Miller :  "  I  can't  understand  what  Ellery 
C.  Miller  means." 

Lawton,  with  a  simulated  sternness :  "  I  hope 
you  haven't  let  that  son  of  yours  run  away  with 
my  daughter,  Bemis  ?  " 

Bemis :  "  I'm  afraid  he's  come  to  a  pass  where 
he  wouldn't  ask  my  leave." 

Curwen,  re-assuring  himself :  "  Ah,  she's  all 
right,  of  course.  I  know  that  "  — 


176  THE  SLEEriXG-CAR 

Bemis :  "  Miss  Lawton  ?  " 
Curwen  :  "No,  no  —  Mrs.  Curwen." 
Campbell :  "  Is  it  a  true  bill,  Agnes  ?  " 
Mrs.   Roberts:    "Indeed   it   is,   Willis.      We've 
been  expecting  her  for  an  hour  —  of   course   she 
always  comes  early  —  and  I'm  afraid  she's   been 
taken  ill  suddenly." 

Roberts  :  "  Oh,  I  don't  think  it's  that,  my  dear." 
Mrs.  Roberts :  "  Oh,  of  course  you  never  think 
any  thing's  wrong,  Edward.  My  whole  family 
might  die,  and  "  —  Mrs.  Roberts  restrains  herself, 
and  turns  to  Mr.  Campbell,  with  hysterical  cheerful- 
ness :  "  Who  came  up  in  the  elevator  with  you  ?  " 
Campbell :  "  Me  ?  /  didn't  come  in  the  elevator. 
I  had  my  usual  luck.  The  elevator  was  up  some- 
where, and  after  I'd  pressed  the  annunciator 
button  till  my  thumb  ached,  I  watched  my  chance 
and  walked  up." 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  Where  was  the  janitor  ?  " 
Campbell:    "Where    the    janitor   always    is  — 
nowhere." 

Lawton :  "Eating  his  Christmas  dinner,  proba- 
bly." 

Mrs.   Roberts,    partially   abandoning    and    then 
recovering  herself :    "  Yes,  it's  perfectly  spoiled ! 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  17 T 

Well,  friends,  I  think  we'd  better  go  to  dinner  — 
that's  the  only  way  to  bring  them.  I'll  go  out 
and  interview  the  cook."  Sotto  voce  to  her  hus- 
band :  "  If  I  don't  go  somewhere  and  have  a  cry, 
I  shall  break  down  here  before  everybody.  Did 
you  ever  know  anything  so  strange  ?  It's  per- 
fectly —  pokerish." 

Lawton :  "  Yes,  there's  nothing  like  serving  din- 
ner to  bring  the  belated  guest.  It's  as  infallible 
as  going  without  an  umbrella  when  it  won't  rain." 

Campbell :  "  No,  no  !  Wait  a  minute,  Roberts. 
You  might  sit  down  without  one  guest,  but  you 
can't  sit  down  without  five.  It's  the  old  joke 
about  the  part  of  Hamlet.  I'll  just  step  round  to 
Aunt  Mary's  house  —  why,  I'll  be  back  in  three 
minutes." 

Mrs.  Roberts,  with  perfervid  gratitude :  "  Oh, 
how  good  you  are,  Willis  !  You  don't  know  how 
much  you're  doing !  What  presence  of  mind  you 
have  !  Why  couldn't  we  have  thought  of  sending 
for  her  ?  0  Willis,  I  can  never  be  grateful  enough 
to  you  !  But  you  always  think  of  everything." 

Roberts :  "  I  accept  my  punishment  meekly, 
Willis,  since  it's  in  your  honor." 

Lawton :  "  It's  a  simple  and  beautiful  solution, 


178  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

Mrs.  Roberts,  as  far  as  your  aunt's  concerned ;  but 
I  don't  see  how  it  helps  the  rest  of  us." 

Mrs.  Miller  to  Mr.  Campbell:  "If  you  meet 
Mr.  Miller  "  — 

Curwen :  "  Or  my  wife  "  — 

Semis :  "  Or  my  son  "  — 

Lawton  :  "  Or  my  daughter  "  — 

Campbell:  "I'll  tell  them  they've  just  one 
chance  in  a  hundred  to  save  their  lives,  and  that 
one  is  open  to  them  for  just  five  minutes." 

Lawton  :  "  Tell  my  daughter  that  I've  been  here 
half  an  hour,  and  everybody  knows  I  drove  here 
with  her." 

Semis :  "  Tell  my  son  that  the  next  time  I'll 
walk,  and  let  him  drive." 

Mrs.  Miller :  « Tell  Mr.  Miller  I  found  I  had 
my  fan  after  all." 

Curwen :  "  And  Mrs.  Curwen  that  I've  got  her 
glove  all  right."  He  holds  it  up. 

Mrs.  Roberts,  at  a  look  of  mystification  and 
demand  from  her  brother  :  "  Never  mind  explana- 
tions, Willis.  They'll  understand,  and  we'll  ex- 
plain when  you  get  back." 

Lawton,  examining  the  glove  which  Curwen 
holds  up  :  "  Why,  so  it  is  right !  " 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  179 

Curwen  :  "  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

Lawton :  "  Were  you  sent  back  to  get  a  left 
glove  ?  » 

Curwen  :  "  Yes,  yes ;  of  course.77 

Lawton :  "  Well,  if  you7ll  notice,  this  is  a  right 
one.  The  one  at  home  is  left." 

Curwen,  staring  helplessly  at  it :  "  Gracious 
Powers  !  what  shall  I  do  ?  77 

Laivton  : ' "  Pray  that  Mrs.  Curwen  may  never 
come.7' 

Mr.  Curwen)  dashing  through  the  door  :  "  I711  be 
back  by  the  time  Mr.  Campbell  returns.77 

Mrs,  Miller,  with  tokens  of  breaking  down  visible 
to  Mrs.  Roberts :  "  I  wonder  what  could  have  kept 
Mr.  Miller.  It's  so  very  mysterious,  1 77  — 

Mrs.  Roberts,  suddenly  seizing  her  by  the  arm, 
and  hurrying  her  from  the  room :  "  Now,  Mrs. 
Miller,  you've  just  got  time  to  see  my  baby." 

Mr.  Roberts,  winking  at  his  remaining  guests : 
"  A  little  cry  will  do  them  good.  I  saw  as  soon 
as  Willis  came  in  instead  of  her  aunt,  that  my 
wife  couldn7t  get  through  without  it.  They7ll 
come  back  as  bright  as  7'  — 

Lawton :  "  Bemis,  should  you  mind  a  bereaved 
father  falling  upon  your  neck  ?  '7 


180  THE   SLEEPING-CAB 

Bemis :  "  Yes,  Lawton,  I  think  I  should." 
Lawton :  "  Well,  it  is  rather  odd  about  all  those 
people.     You  can  say  of  one  or  two  that  they've 
been    delayed,   but    five   people   can't   have   been 
delayed.     It's   too   much.     It  amounts  to  a  coin- 
cidence.    Hello  !     What's  that  ?  " 
Roberts  :  "  What's  what  ?  " 
Lawton  :  "  I  thought  I  heard  a  cry." 
Roberts :  "  Very  likely  you  did.     They  profess 
to  deaden  these  floors  so  that  you  can't  hear  from 
one   apartment   to   another.    .But   I   know  pretty 
well  when   my   neighbor   overhead   is    trying  to 
wheel  his  baby  to  sleep  in  a  perambulator  at  three 
o'clock  in  the  morning ;   and  I  guess   our  young 
lady  lets  the  people  below  understand  when  she's 
wakeful.     But  it's  the  only  way  to  live,  after  all. 
I  wouldn't  go  back  to  the  old  up-and-down-stairs, 
house-in-a-block  system  on  any  account.     Here  we 
all    live    on    the    ground-floor    practically.      The 
elevator  equalizes  everything." 

Bemis  :  "  Yes,  when  it  happens  to  be  where  you 
are.  I  believe  I  prefer  the  good  old  Florentine 
fashion  of  walking  upstairs,  after  all." 

Lawton :  "  Koberts,  I  did  hear  something. 
Hark !  It  sounded  like  a  cry  for  help.  There  !  " 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  181 

Roberts  :  "  You're  nervous,  doctor.  It's  nothing. 
However,  it's  easy  enough  to  go  out  and  see."  He 
goes  out  to  the  door  of  the  apartment,  and  imme- 
diately returns.  He  beckons  to  Dr.  Lawton  and 
Mr.  BemiS)  with  a  mysterious  whisper:  "Come 
here  both  of  you.  Don't  alarm  the  ladies.'7 


182  THE  SLEEPING-CAB 


II. 

IN  the  interior  of  the  elevator  are  seated  Mrs. 
Roberts's  Aunt  Mary  (Mrs.  Crashaw\  Mrs. 
Curwen,  and  Miss  Lawton;  Mr.  Miller  and  Mr. 
Alfred  Bemis  are  standing  with  their  hats  in 
their  hands.  They  are  in  dinner  costume,  with 
their  overcoats  on  their  arms,  and  the  ladies' 
draperies  and  ribbons  show  from  under  their 
outer  wraps,  where  they  are  caught  up,  and  held 
with  that  caution  which  characterizes  ladies  in 
sitting  attitudes  which  they  have  not  been  able 
to  choose  deliberately.  As  they  talk  together, 
the  elevator  rises  very  slowly,  and  they  continue 
talking  for  some  time  before  they  observe  that  it 
has  stopped. 

Mrs.  Crashaw :  "  It's  very  fortunate  that  we  are 
all  here  together.  I  ought  to  have  been  here  half 
an  hour  ago,  but  I  was  kept  at  home  by  an  acci- 
dent to  my  finery,  and  before  I  could  be  put  in 
repair  I  heard  it  striking  the  quarter  past.  I 


AND    OTHER   FARCES.  183 

don't  know  what  my  niece  will  say  to  me.  I  hope 
you  good  people  will  all  stand  by  me  if  she  should 
be  violent." 

Miller:  "In  what  a  poor  man  may  with  his 
wife's  fan,  you  shall  command  me,  Mrs.  Crashaw." 
He  takes  the  fan  out,  and  unfurls  it. 

Mrs.  Crashaw :  "  Did  she  send  you  back  for 
it?" 

Miller :  "  I  shouldn't  have  had  the  pleasure  of 
arriving  with  you  if  she  hadn't." 

Mrs.  Crashaiv,  laughing,  to  Mrs.  Curwen: 
"  What  did  you  send  yours  back  for,  my  dear  ?  " 

Mrs.  Curwen,  thrusting  out  one  hand  gloved, 
and  the  other  ungloved :  "  I  didn't  want  two 
rights." 

Young  Mr.  Semis :  "  Not  even  women's  rights  ?  " 

Mrs.  Curwen  :  "  Oh,  so  young  and  so  depraved ! 
Are  all  the  young  men  in  Florence  so  bad  ? " 
Surveying  her  extended  arms,  which  she  turns 
over  :  "  I  don't  know  that  I  need  have  sent  him 
for  the  other  glove.  I  could  have  explained  to 
Mrs.  Roberts.  Perhaps  she  would  have  forgiven 
my  coming  in  one  gldve." 

Miller,  looking  down  at  the  pretty  arms :  "  If 
she  had  seen  you  without." 


184  THE   SLEEPING-CAK 

Mrs.  Curwen :  "  Oh,  you  were  looking  I "  She 
rapidly  involves  her  arms  in  her  wrap.  Then  she 
suddenly  unwraps  them,  and  regards  them  thought- 
fully. "What  if  he  should  bring  a  ten-button 
instead  of  an  eight !  And  he's  quite  capable  of 
doing  it." 

Miller:  "Are  there  such  things  as  ten-button 
gloves  ?  " 

Mrs.  Curwen :  "  You  would  think  there  were 
ten-thousand  button  gloves  if  you  had  them  to 
button." 

Miller  :  "  It  would  depend  upon  whom  I  had  to 
button  them  for." 

Mrs.  Curwen:  "For  Mrs.  Miller,  for  example." 

Mrs.  Crashaw :  "  We  women  are  too  bad,  always 
sending  people  back  for  something.  It's  well  the 
men  don't  know  how  bad." 

Mrs.  Curwen :  "  'Sh  !  Mr.  Miller  is  listening. 
And  he  thought  we  were  perfect.  He  asks  noth- 
ing better  than  to  be  sent  back  for  his  wife's  fan. 
And  he  doesn't  say  anything  even  under  his 
breath  when  she  finds  she's  forgotten  it,  and 
begins,  '  Oh,  dearest,  my  fan '  —  Mr.  Curwen  does. 
But  he  goes  all  the  same.  I  hope  you  have  your 
father  in  good  training,  Miss  Lawton.  You  must 


AND    OTHER   FARCES.  185 

commence  with  your  father,  if  you  expect  your 
husband  to  be  '  good.' " 

Miss  Lawton :  "  Then  mine  ,will  never  behave, 
for  papa  is  perfectly  incorrigible." 

Mrs.  Cumven  :  "  I'm  sorry  to  hear  such  a  bad 
report  of  him.  Shouldn't  you  think  he  would  be 
'good,'  Mr.  Bemis?" 

Young  Mr.  Bemis:  "I  should  think  he  would 
try." 

Mrs.  Curwen:  "A  diplomat,  as  well  as  a 
punster  already  !  I  must  warn  Miss  Lawton." 

Mrs.  Crashaw,  interposing  to  spare  the  young 
people  :  "  What  an  amusing  thing  elevator  etiquette 
is !  Why  should  the  gentlemen  take  their  hats 
off  ?  Why  don't  you  take  your  hats  off  in  a 
horse-car  ?  " 

Miller :  "  The  theory  is  that  the  elevator  is  a 
room." 

Young  Mr.  Bemis :  "  We  were  at  a  hotel  in 
London  where  they  called  it  the  Ascending 
Koom." 

Miss  Zawton  :  "Oh,  how  amusing !  " 

Miller,  looking  about :  "  This  is  a  regular  draw- 
ing-room for  size  and  luxury.  They're  usually 
such  cribs  in  these  hotels." 


186  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

Mrs.  Crashaw:  "Yes,  it's  very  nice,  though  I 
say  it  that  shouldn't  of  iny  niece's  elevator.  The 
worst  about  it  is,  it's  so  slow." 

Miller :  "  Let's  hope  it's  sure." 

Young  Mr.  Bemis  :  "  Some  of  these  elevators  in 
America  go  up  like  express  trains." 

Mrs.  Curwen,  drawing  her  shawl  about  her 
shoulders,  as  if  to  be  ready  to  step  out :  "  Well,  I 
never  get  into  one  without  taking  my  life  in  my 
hand,  and  my  heart  in  my  mouth.  I  suppose 
every  one  really  expects  an  elevator  to  drop  with 
them,  some  day,  just  as  everybody  really  expects 
to  see  a  ghost  some  time." 

Mrs.  Crashaw :  "  Oh,  my  dear !  what  an  ex- 
tremely disagreeable  subject  of  conversation." 

Mrs.  Curwen :  "  I  can't  help  it,  Mrs.  Crashaw. 
When  I  reflect  that  there  are  two  thousand  eleva- 
tors in  Boston,  and  that  the  inspectors  have  just 
pronounced  a  hundred  and  seventy  of  them  un- 
safe, I'm  so  desperate  when  I  get  into  one  that  I 
could  — flirt!" 

Miller,  guarding  himself  with  the  fan:  "Not 
with  me  ?  " 

Miss  Lawton,  to  young  Mr.  Bemis :  "  How  it 
does  creep ! " 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  187 

Young  Mr.  Bemis,  looking  down  fondly  at  her : 
"  Oh,  does  it  ?  " 

Mrs.  Crashaw  :  "  Why,  it  doesn't  go  at  all !  It's 
stopped.  Let  us  get  out."  They  all  rise. 

The  Elevator  Boy,  pulling  at  the  rope  :  "  We're 
not  there,  yet." 

Mrs.  Craskaw,  with  mingled  trepidation  and 
severity:  "Not  there?  What  are  you  stopping, 
then,  for  ?  " 

The  Elevator  Boy  :  "  I  don't  know.  It  seems  to 
be  caught." 

Mrs.  Crashaw  :  "  Caught  ?  " 

Miss  Lawton  :  "  Oh,  dear  !  " 

Young  Mr.  Bemis :  "  Don't  mind." 

Miller :  "  Caught  ?     Nonsense  !  " 

Mrs.  Curwen :  "  We're  caught,  I  should  say." 
She  sinks  back  on  the  seat. 

The  Elevator  Boy :  "  Seemed  to  be  going  kind  of 
funny  all  day  ! "  He  keeps  tugging  at  the  rope. 

Miller,  arresting  the  boy's  efforts:  "Well,  hold 
on  —  stop  !  What  are  you  doing  ?  " 

The  Elevator  Boy  :  "  Trying  to  make  it  go." 

Miller :  "  Well,  don't  be  so  —  violent  about  it. 
You  might  break  something." 

The  Elevator  Boy:  "Break  a  wire  rope  like 
that!" 


188  THE   SLEEPIXG-CAR 

Miller:  "Well,  well,  be  quiet  now.  Ladies,  I 
think  you'd  better  sit  down  —  and  as  gently  as 
possible.  I  wouldn't  move  about  much." 

Mrs.  Curwen :  "  Move !  We're  stone.  And  I 
wish  for  my  part  I  were  a  feather." 

Miller,  to  the  boy:  "Er  —  a — er  —  where  do 
you  suppose  we  are  ?  " 

The  Elevator  Boy :  "  We're  in  the  shaft  between 
the  fourth  and  fifth  floors."  He  attempts  a  fresh 
demonstration  on  the  rope,  but  is  prevented. 

Miller :  "  Hold  on  !     Er  —  er  "  — 

Mrs.  Crashaw,  as  if  the  boy  had  to  be  com- 
municated with  through  an  interpreter:  "Ask 
him  if  it's  ever  happened  before." 

Miller :  "  Yes.     Were  you  ever  caught  before  ?  " 

The  Elevator  Boy  :  "No." 

Miller:  "He  says  no." 

Mrs.  Crashaw:  "Ask  him  if  the  elevator  has  a 
safety  device." 

Miller :  "  Has  it  got  a  safety  device  ?  " 

The  Elevator  Boy  :   "  How  should  I  know  ?  " 

Miller :  "  He  says  he  don't  know." 

Mrs.  Curwen,  in  a  shriek  of  hysterical  laughter  : 
"  Why,  he  understands  English  !  " 

Mrs.  Crashaw,  sternly  ignoring  the  insinuation  : 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  189 

"Ask  him  if  there's  any  means  of  calling  the 
janitor." 

Miller :  "  Could  you  call  the  janitor  ?  " 

The  Elevator  Boy,  ironically :  "  Well,  there  ain't 
any  telephone  attachment." 

Miller •,  solemnly  :  "  No,  he  says  there  isn't." 

Mrs.  Crashaw,  sinking  back  on  the  seat  with 
resignation :  "  Well,  I  don't  know  what  my  niece 
will  say." 

Miss  Lawton :  "  Poor  papa  !  " 

Young  Mr.  Bemis,  gathering  one  of  her  wan- 
dering hands  into  his  :  "  Don't  be  frightened.  I'm 
sure  there's  no  danger." 

The  Elevator  Boy,  indignantly  :  "  Why,  she  can't 
drop.  The  cogs  in  the  runs  won't  let  her !  " 

All:  "Oh!" 

Miller,  with  a  sigh  of  relief:  "I  knew  there 
must  be  something  of  the  kind.  Well,  I  wish  my 
wife  had  her  fan." 

Mrs.  Curwen :  "  And  if  I  had  my  left  glove  I 
should  be  perfectly  happy.  Not  that  I  know 
what  the  cogs  in  the  runs  are ! " 

Mrs.  Crashaw :  "Then  we're  merely  caught 
.here?" 

Miller:  "That's  all." 


190  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

Mrs.  Curwen:  "It's  quite  enough  for 'the  pur- 
pose. Couldn't  you  put  on  a  life-preserver,  Mr.  Mil- 
ler, and  go  ashore  and  get  help  from  the  natives  ?  " 

Miss  Lawton,  putting  her  handkerchief  to  her 
eyes  :  "  Oh,  dear  !  " 

Mrs.  Crashaw,  putting  her  arm  around  her: 
"Don't  be  frightened,  my  child.  There's  no 
danger." 

Young  Mr.  Bemis,  caressing  the  hand  which  he 
holds  :  "  Don't  be  frightened." 

Miss  Lawton :  "  Don't  leave  me." 

Young  Mr.  Bemis :  "No,  no;  I  won't.  Keep 
fast  hold  of  my  hand." 

Miss  Lawton :  "  Oh,  yes,  I  will !  I'm  ashamed 
to  cry." 

Young  Mr.  Bemis,  fervently:  "Oh,  you  needn't 
be !  It  is  perfectly  natural  you  should." 

Mrs.  Curwen :  "  I'm  too  badly  scared  for  tears. 
Mr.  Miller,  you  seem  to  be  in  charge  of  this  ex- 
pedition—  couldn't  you  do  something?  Throw 
out  ballast,  or  let  the  boy  down  in  a  parachute  ? 
Or  I've  read  of  a  shipwreck  where  the  survivors, 
in  an  open  boat,  joined  in  a  cry,  and  attracted  the 
notice  of  a  vessel  that  was  going  to  pass  them. 
We  might  join  in  a  cry." 


AND   OTHER  FARCES.  191 

Miller:  "Oh,  it's  all  very  well  joking,  Mrs. 
Curwen  "  — 

Mrs.  Curwen :  "  You  call  it  joking ! " 

Miller :  "  But  it's  not  so  amusing,  being  cooped 
up  here  indefinitely.  I  don't  know  how  we're  to 
get  out.  We  can't  join  in  a  cry,  and  rouse  the 
whole  house.  It  would  be  ridiculous." 

Mrs.  Curwen  :  "  And  our  present  attitude  is  so 
eminently  dignified!  Well,  I  suppose  we  shall 
have  to  cast  lots  pretty  soon  to  see  which  of  us 
shall  be  sacrificed  to  nourish  the  survivors.  It's 
long  past  dinner-time." 

Miss  Lawton,  breaking  down :  "  Oh,  don't  say 
such  terrible  things." 

Young  Mr.  Bemis,  indignantly  comforting  her : 
"Don't,  don't  cry.  There's  no  danger.  It's  per- 
fectly safe." 

Miller  to  the  Elevator  Boy :  "  Couldn't  you  climb 
up  the  cable,  and  get  on  to  the  landing,  and  —  ah ! 
—  get  somebody  ?  " 

The  Elevator  Boy:  "I  could,  maybe,  if  there 
was  a  hole  in  the  roof." 

Miller,  glancing  up  :  "  Ah  !  true." 

Mrs.  Crashaw,  with  an  old  lady's  serious  kind- 
ness :  "  My  boy,  can't  you  think  of  anything  to  do 
for  us  ?  " 


192  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

The  Elevator  Boy  yielding  to  the  touch  of 
humanity,  and  bursting  into  tears :  "  No,  ma'am, 
I  can't.  And  everybody's  blamin'  me,  as  if  I  done 
it.  What's  my  poor  mother  goin'  to  do  ?  " 

Mrs.  Crashaw,  soothingly:  "But  you  said  the 
runs  in  the  cogs"  — 

The  Elevator  Boy:  "How  can  I  tell!  That's 
what  they  say.  They  hain't  never  been  tried." 

Mrs.  Curwen,  springing  to  her  feet :  "  There  !  I 
knew  I  should.  Oh  "  —  She  sinks  fainting  to  the 
floor. 

Mrs.  Crashaw,  abandoning  Miss  Lawton  to  the 
ministrations  of  young  Mr.  Bemis,  while  she  kneels 
beside  Mrs.  Curwen  and  chafes  her  hand:  "Oh, 
poor  thing  !  I  knew  she  was  overwrought  by  the 
way  she  was  keeping  up.  Give  her  air,  Mr. 
Miller.  Open  a  —  Oh,  there  isn't  any  window  !  " 

Miller,  dropping  on  his  knees,  and  fanning  Mrs. 
Curwen  :  "There  !  there  !  Wake  up,  Mrs.  Curwen. 
I  didn't  mean  to  scold  you  for  joking.  I  didn't, 
indeed.  I  —  I  —  I  don't  know  what  the  deuce 
I'm  up  to."  He  gathers  Mrs.  Curwerfs  inanimate 
form  in  his  arms,  and  fans  her  face  where  it  lies 
on  his  shoulder.  "  I  don't  know  what  my  wife 
would  say  if"  — 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  193 

Mrs.  Crashaw :  "  She  would  say  that  you  were 
doing  your  duty." 

Miller,  a  little  consoled :  "  Oh,  do  you  think  so  ? 
Well,  perhaps.'7 

Young  Mr.  Bemis :  u  Do  you  feel  faint  at  all, 
Miss  Lawton  ?  " 

Miss  Lawton:  "No,  I  think  not.  No,  not  if 
you  say  it's  safe." 

Young  Mr.  Bemis  :  "  Oh,  I'm  sure  it  is  ! " 

Miss  Lawton,  renewing  her  hold  upon  his  hand  : 
«  Well,  then  !  Perhaps  I  hurt  you  ?  " 

Young  Mr.  Bemis :  "  No,  no  !     You  couldn't." 

Miss  Lawton :  "  How  kind  you  are  ! " 

Mrs.  Curwen,  opening  her  eyes  :  "  Where  "  — 

Miller,  rapidly  transferring  her  to  Mrs.  Crashaw  : 
"  Still  in  the  elevator,  Mrs.  Curwen."  Rising  to 
his  feet :  "  Something  must  be  done.  Perhaps  we 
had  better  unite  in  a  cry.  It's  ridiculous,  of 
course.  But  it's  the  only  thing  we  can  do.  Now, 
then!  Hello!" 

Miss  Lawton  :  "  Papa  !  " 

Mrs.  Crashaw :  "  Agne-e-e-s  !  " 

Mrs.  Curwen,  faintly :  " Walter!" 

The  Elevator  Boy  :  "  Say  !  " 

Miller:  "Oh,  that  won't  do.  All  join  in 
*  Hello!'" 


194  THE  SLEEPING-CAB 

All:  "Hello!" 

Miller :  "  Once  more  ! " 

All:  "Hello!" 

Miller:  "  Once  more ! " 

All:  "Hello!" 

Miller:  "Now  wait  a  while."  After  an  inter- 
val: "No,  nobody  coming."  He  takes  out  his 
watch.  "  We  must  repeat  this  cry  at  intervals  of 
a  half-minute.  Now,  then ! "  They  all  join  in 
the  cry,  repeating  it  as  Mr.  Miller  makes  the 
signal  with  his  lifted  hand. 

Miss  Lawton :  "  Oh,  it's  no  use  !  " 

Mrs.  Crashaw:  "  They  don't  hear." 

Mrs.  Curwen :  "  They  won't  hear." 

Miller :  "  Now,  then,  three  times  !  " 

All:  "Hello!  hello!  hello!" 


AND  OTHEK   FAECES.  195 


III. 


Roberts  appears  at  the  outer  door  of  his  apartment 
on  the  fifth  floor.  It  opens  upon  a  spacious 
landing,  to  which  a  wide  staircase  ascends  at 
one  side.  At  the  other  is  seen  the  grated  door 
to  the  shaft  of  the  elevator.  He  peers  about 
on  all  sides,  and  listens  for  a  moment  before  he 
speaks. 

Roberts :  "  Hello  yourself." 

Miller,  invisibly  from  the  shaft :  "  Is  that  you, 

Koberts  ?  " 

Roberts :  "  Yes  ;  where  in  the  world  are  you  ?  " 

Miller :  "  In  the  elevator." 

Mrs.  Crashaw :  "  We're  all  here,  Edward." 

Roberts  :  "  What !     You,  Aunt  Mary  ! " 

Mrs.  Crashaw :  "Yes.     Didn't  I  say  so  ?  " 

Roberts  :  "  Why  don't  you  come  up  ?  " 

Miller :  "  We  can't.     The  elevator  has  got  stuck 

somehow." 


196  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

Roberts :   "  Got   stuck  ?     Bless   my  soul !     How 
did  it  happen  ?     How  long  have  you  been  there  ?  " 
Mrs.  Curwen  :  "  Since  the  world  began  !  " 
Miller:   "What's  the  use   asking  how  it  hap- 
pened ?    We    don't    know,    and   we    don't    care. 
What  we  want  to  do  is  to  get  out." 

Roberts :  "  Yes,  yes  !  Be  careful !  "  He  rises 
from  his  frog-like  posture  at  the  grating,  and 
walks  the  landing  in  agitation.  "  Just  hold  on  a 
minute ! " 

Miller :  "  Oh,  we  sha'n't  stir." 
Roberts  :  "  I'll  see  what  can  be  done." 
Miller:   "Well,   see   quick,   please.      We   have 
plenty  of  time,  but  we  don't  want  to  lose  any. 
Don't  alarm  Mrs.  Miller,  if  you  can  help  it." 
Roberts:  "No,  no." 

Mrs.  Curwen :  "  You  may  alarm  Mr.  Curwen." 
Roberts  :  "  What !     Are  you  there  ?  " 
Mrs.   Curwen:  "Here?     I've   been  here  all  my 
life  !  " 

Roberts:   "Ha!   ha!   ha!     That's   right.     We'll 
soon  have  you  out.     Keep  up  your  spirits.'1 
Mrs.  Curwen  :  "  But  I'm  not  keeping  them  up." 
Miss  Lawton :  "  Tell  papa  I'm  here  too." 
Roberts :  "  What !     You  too,  Miss  Lawton  ?  " 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  197 

Mrs.  Craskaw :  "  Yes,  and  young  Mr.  Bemis. 
Didn't  I  tell  you  we  were  all  here  ?  " 

Roberts :  "  I  couldn't  realize  it.  Well,  wait  a 
moment." 

Mrs.  Curwen :  "  Oh,  you  can  trust  us  to  wait." 

Roberts,  returning  with  Dr.  Lawton,  and  Mr. 
Bemis,  who  join  him  in  stooping  around  the 
grated  door  of  the  shaft :  "  They're  just  under 
here  in  the  well  of  the  elevator,  midway  between 
the  two  stories." 

Lawton :  "  Ha !  ha !  ha  !     You  don't  say  so." 

Bemis :  "  Bless  my  heart !  What  are  they 
doing  there  ?  " 

Miller:  "We're  not  doing  anything." 

Mrs.  Curwen :  "  We're  waiting  for  you  to  do 
something." 

Miss  Lawton :  "  Oh,  papa ! " 

Lawton :  "  Don't  be  troubled,  Lou,  we'll  soon 
have  you  out." 

Young  Mr.  Bemis:  "Don't  be  alarmed,  sir. 
Miss  Lawton  is  all  right." 

Miss  Lawton :  "  Yes,  I'm  not  frightened,  papa." 

Lawton :  "  Well,  that's  a  great  thing  in  cases  of 
this  kind.  How  did  you  happen  to  get  there  ?  " 

Miller,  indignantly :  "  How  do  you  suppose  ? 
We  came  up  in  the  elevator." 


198  THE   SLEEPING-CAB 

Lawton :  "  Well,  why  didn't  you  come  the  rest 
of  the  way  ?  " 

Miller:  " The  elevator  wouldn't." 

Lawton :  "  What  seems  to  be  the  matter  ?  " 

Miller:  "We  don't  know." 

Lawton :  "  Have  you  tried  to  start  it  ?  " 

Miller  :  "  Well,  I'll  leave  that  to  your  imagina- 
tion." 

Lawton :  "  Well,  be  careful  what  you  do.  You 
might "  — 

Miller,  interrupting :  "  Koberts,  who's  that 
talking?" 

Roberts,  coming  forward  politely :  "  Oh,  excuse 
me  !  I  forgot  that  you  didn't  know  each  other. 
Dr.  Lawton,  Mr.  Miller."  Introducing  them. 

Lawton :  "  Glad  to  know  you." 

Miller  :  "  Very  happy  to  make  your  acquaint- 
ance, and  hope  some  day  to  see  you.  And  now, 
if  you  have  completed  your  diagnosis  "  — 

Mrs.  Curwen :  "  None  of  us  have  ever  had  it 
before,  doctor ;  nor  any  of  our  families,  so  far  as 
we  know." 

Lawton:  "Ha!  ha!  ha!  Very  good!  Well, 
just  keep  quiet.  We'll  have  you  all  out  of  there 
presently." 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  199 

Bemis :  "  Yes,  remain  perfectly  still." 

Roberts :  "  Yes,  we'll  have  you  out.     Just  wait." 

Miller :  "  You  seem  to  think  we're  going  to  run 
away.  Why  shouldn't  we  keep  quiet?  Do  you 
suppose  we're  going  to  be  very  boisterous,  shut  up 
here  like  rats  in  a  trap  ?  " 

Mrs.  Curwen  :  "  Or  birds  in  a  cage,  if  you  want 
a  more  pleasing  image." 

Mrs.  Crashaw :  "How  are  you  going  to  get  us 
out,  Edward  ?  " 

Roberts :  "  We  don't  know  yet.  But  keep 
quiet "  — 

Miller :  "  Keep  quiet !  Great  heavens  !  we're 
afraid  to  stir  a  finger.  Now  don't  say  'keep 
quiet'  any  more,  for  we  can't  stand  it." 

Lawton :  "  He's  in  open  rebellion.  What  are 
you  going  to  do,  Eoberts  ?  " 

Roberts,  rising  and  scratching  his  head :  "  Well, 
I  don't  know  yet.  We  might  break  a  hole  in  the 
roof." 

Lawton :  "  Ah,  I  don't  think  that  would  do. 
Besides  you'd  have  to  get  a  carpenter." 

Roberts :  "  That's  true.  And  it  would  make  a 
racket,  and  alarm  the  house"  —  staring  desper- 
ately at  the  grated  doorway  of  the  shaft.  "If  I 


200  THE  SLEEPING-CAR 

could  only  find  an  elevator  man  —  an  elevator 
builder!  But  of  course  they  all  live  in  the 
suburbs,  and  they're  keeping  Christmas,  and  it 
•would  take  too  long,  anyway." 

Bemis :  "  Hadn't  you  better  send  for  the  police  ? 
It  seems  to  me  it's  a  case  for  the  authorities." 

Lawton:  "Ah,  there  speaks  the  Europeanized 
mind!  They  always  leave  the  initiative  to  the 
authorities.  Go  out  and  sound  the  fire-alarm, 
Roberts.  It's  a  case  for  the  Fire  Department." 

Roberts:  "Oh,  it's  all  very  well  to  joke,  Dr. 
Lawton.  Why  don't  you  prescribe  something  ?  " 

Lawton:  "Surgical  treatment  seems  to  be  in- 
dicated, and  I'm  merely  a  general  practitioner." 

Roberts:  "If  Willis  were  only  here,  he'd  find 
some  way  out  of  it.  Well,  I'll  have  to  go  for 
help  somewhere  "  — 

Mrs.  Roberts  and  Mrs.  Miller,  bursting  upon  the 
scene  :  "  Oh,  what  is  it  ?  " 

Lawton  :  "  Ah,  you  needn't  go  for  help,  my  dear 
fellow.  It's  come  ! " 

Mrs.  Roberts:  "What  are  you  all  doing  here, 
Edward  ?  " 

Mrs.  Miller :  "  Oh,  have  you  had  any  bad  news 
of  Mr.  Miller  ?  " 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  201 

Mrs.  Roberts  :  "  Or  Aunt  Mary  ?  " 

Miller,  calling  up:  "Well,  are  you  going  to 
keep  us  here  all  night  ?  Why  don't  you  do 
something  ?  " 

Mrs.  Miller:  "  Oh,  what's  that?  Oh,  it's  Mr. 
Miller  !  Oh,  where  are  you,  Ellery  ?  " 

Miller :  "  In  the  elevator." 

Mrs.  Miller :  "  Oh  !  and  where  is  the  elevator  ? 
Why  don't  you  get  out  ?  Oh  "  — 

Miller :  "  It's  caught,  and  we  can't.'7 

Mrs.  Miller :  "  Caught  ?  Oh,  then  you  will  be 
killed  — killed  — killed!  And  it's  all  my  fault, 
sending  you  back  after  my  fan,  and  I  had  it  all 
the  time  in  my  own  pocket;  and  it  comes  from 
my  habit  of  giving  it  to  you  to  carry  in  your 
overcoat  pocket,  because  it's  deep,  and  the  fan 
can't  break.  And  of  course  I  never  thought  of 
my  own  pocket,  and  I  never  should  have  thought 
of  it  at  all  if  Mr.  Curwen  hadn't  been  going  back 
to  get  Mrs.  Curwen's  glove,  for  he'd  brought 
another  right  after  she'd  sent  him  for  a  left,  and 
we  were  all  having  such  a  laugh  about  it,  and  I 
just  happened  to  put  my  hand  on  my  pocket,  and 
there  I  felt  the  fan.  And  oh,  what  shall  I  do  ?  " 
Mrs.  Miller  utters  these  explanations  and  self- 


202  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

reproaches  in  a  lamentable  voice,  while  crouching 
close  to  the  grated  door  to  the  elevator  shaft,  and 
clinging  to  its  meshes. 

Miller :  "  Well,  well,  it's  all  right.  I've  got  yon 
another  fan,  here.  Don't  be  frightened." 

Mrs.  Roberts,  wildly :  "  Where's  Aunt  Mary, 
Edward  ?  Has  Willis  got  back  ?  "  At  a  guilty 
look  from  her  husband :  "  Edward  !  don't  tell  me 
that  she's  in  that  elevator  !  Don't  do  it,  Edward  ! 
For  your  own  sake  don't.  Don't  tell  me  that  your 
own  child's  mother's  aunt  is  down  there,  sus- 
pended between  heaven  and  earth  like  —  like"  — 
Lawton  :  "  The  coffin  of  the  Prophet." 
Mrs.  Roberts:  "Yes.  Don't  tell  me,  Edward! 
Spare  you'r  child's  mother,  if  you  won't  spare  your 
wife  ! " 

Mrs.  Craskaw :  "  Agnes  !  don't  be  ridiculous. 
I'm  here,  and  I  never  was  more  comfortable  in 
my  life." 

Mrs.  Roberts,  calling  down  the  grating :  "  Oh ! 
Is  it  you,  Aunt  Mary  ?  " 

Mrs.  Crashaw :  "  Of  course  it  is  ! " 
Mrs.  Roberts :  "  You  recognize  my  voice  ?  " 
Mrs.    Crashaw :    "  I    should   hope    so,    indeed ! 
Why  shouldn't  I  ?  " 


AND  OTHER  FAECES.  203 

Mrs.  Roberts  :  "  And  you  know  me  ?  Agnes  ? 
Oh!" 

Mrs.  Crashaw :  "Don't  be  a  goose,  Agnes." 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  Oh,  it  is  you,  aunty.  It  is ! 
Oh,  PHI  so  glad  !  I'm  so  happy !  But  keep  per- 
fectly still,  aunty  dear,  and  we'll  soon  have  you 
out.  Think  of  baby,  and  don't  give  way." 

Mrs.  Crashaw :  "  I  shall  not,  if  the  elevator 
doesn't,  you  may  depend  upon  that." 

Mrs.  Roberts  :  "  Oh,  what  courage  you  do  have ! 
But  keep  up  your  spirits  !  Mrs.  Miller  and  I  have 
just  come  from  seeing  baby.  She's  gone  to  sleep 
with  all  her  little  presents  in  her  arms.  The 
children  did  want  to  see  you  so  much  before  they 
went  to  bed.  But  never  mind  that  now,  Aunt 
Mary.  I'm  only  too  thankful  to  have  you  at 
all ! " 

Mrs.  Crashaw :  "  I  wish  you  did  have  me ! 
And  if  you  will  all  stop  talking  and  try  some  of 
you  to  do  something,  I  shall  be  greatly  obliged 
to  you.  It's  worse  than  it  was  in  the  sleeping- 
car  that  night." 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  Oh,  do  you  remember  it,  Aunt 
Mary  ?  Oh,  how  funny  you  are  !  "  Turning 
heroically  to  her  husband:  "Now,  Edward,  dear, 


204  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

get  them  out.  If  it's  necessary,  get  them  out  over 
my  dead  body.  Anything!  Only  hurry.  I  will 
be  calm  ;  I  will  be  patient.  But  you  must  act 
instantly.  Oh,  here  comes  Mr.  Curwen  ! "  Mr. 
Curwen  mounts  the  stairs  to  the  landing  with 
every  sign  of  exhaustion,  as  if  he  had  made  a 
very  quick  run  to  and  from  his  house.  "  Oh,  he 
will  help  —  I  know  he  will !  Oh,  Mr.  Curwen, 
the  elevator  is  caught  just  below  here  with  my 
aunt  in  it  and  Mrs.  Miller's  husband"  — 

Lawton  :  "  And  my  girl." 

Semis  :  "  And  my  boy." 

Mrs.  Curwen,  calling  up  :  "  And  your  wife  !  " 

Curwen,  horror-struck  :  "  And  my  wife  !  Oh, 
heavenly  powers  !  what  are  we  going  to  do  ?  How 
shall  we  get  them  out  ?  Why  don't  they  come 
up?" 

All :  "  They  can't." 

Curwen :  "  Can't  ?  Oh,  my  goodness  !  "  He 
flies  at  the  grating,  and  kicks  and  beats  it. 

Roberts  :  "  Hold  on  !     What's  the  use  of  that  ?  " 

Lawton  :  "  You  couldn't  get  at  them  if  you  beat 
the  door  down." 

Semis  :  "  Certainly  not."  They  lay  hands  upon 
him  and  restrain  him. 


AND   OTHER    FARCES.  205 

Curwen,  struggling :  "  Let  me  speak  to  ray 
wife  !  Will  you  prevent  a  husband  from  speaking 
to  his  own  wife  ?  " 

Mrs.  Miller,  in  blind  admiration  of  his  frenzy  : 
"Yes,  that's  just  what  I  said.  If  some  one  had 
beaten  the  door  in  at  once  "  — 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  Oh,  Edward,  dear,  let  him 
speak  to  his  wife."  Tearfully  :  "  Think  if  /  were 
there  ! " 

Roberts,  releasing  him:  "He  may  speak  to  his 
wife  all  night.  But  he  mustn't  knock  the  house 
down." 

Curwen,  rushing  at  the  grating :  "  Caroline ! 
Can  you  hear  me  ?  Are  you  safe  ?  " 

Mrs.  Curwen :  "  Perfectly.  I  had  a  little  faint 
when  we  first  stuck  "  — 

Curwen:  "Faint?     Oh!" 

Mrs.  Curwen  :  "  But  I  am  all  right  now." 

Curwen:  "Well,  that's  right.  Don't  be  fright- 
ened !  There's  no  occasion  for  excitement.  Keep 
perfectly  calm  and  collected.  It's  the  only  way  — 
What's  that  ringing  ?  "  The  sound  of  an  electric 
bell  is  heard  within  the  elevator.  It  increases  in 
fury. 

Mrs.  Roberts  aud  Mrs.  Miller :  "  Oh,  isn't  it 
dreadful  ?  » 


206  THE  SLEEPING-CAB 

The  Elevator  Boy:  "It's  somebody  on  the 
ground-floor  callin'  the  elevator  ! " 

Curwen :  "  Well,  never  mind  him.  Don't  pay 
the  slightest  attention  to  him.  Let  him  go  to  the 
deuce  !  And,  Caroline  ! " 

Mrs.  Cunven  :  "  Yes  ?  " 

Curwen  :  "I  —  I  —  I've  got  your  glove  all 
right." 

Mrs.  Curwen  :  "  Left,  you  mean,  I  hope  ?  " 

Curwen :  "  Yes,  left,  dearest !     I  mean  left." 

Mrs.  Curwen:  "Eight-button?" 

Curwen:  "Yes." 

Mrs.  Curwen:  "Light  drab?" 

Curwen,  pulling  a  light  yellow  glove  from  his 
pocket :  "  Oh ! "  He  staggers  away  from  the  grat- 
ing and  stays  himself  against  the  wall,  the  mis- 
taken glove  dangling  limply  from  his  hand. 

Roberts,  Lawton,  and  Bemis :  "Ah!  ha!  ha! 
ha!" 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  Oh,  for  shame  !  to  laugh  at  such 
a  time  ! " 

Mrs.  Miller :  "  When  it's  a  question  of  life  and 
death.  There !  The  ringing's  stopped.  What's 
that  ?  "  Steps  are  heard  mounting  the  stairway 
rapidly,  several  treads  at  a  time.  Mr.  Campbell 


AND   OTHER   FARCES.  207 

suddenly  bursts  into  the  group  on  the  landing  with 
a  final  bound  from  the  stairway.  "  Oh  !  " 

Campbell :  "  I  can't  find  Aunt  Mary,  Agnes.  I 
can't  find  anything  —  not  even  the  elevator. 
Where's  the  elevator  ?  I  rang  for  it  down  there 
till  I  was  black  in  the  face." 

Mrs.  Roberts  :  "  No  wonder  !     It's  here." 

Mrs.  Miller:  "Between  this  floor  and  the  floor 
below.  With  my  husband  in  it." 

Curwen  :  "  And  my  wife  !  " 

Lawton  :  "  And  my  daughter  ! " 

Bemis  :  "  And  my  son  !  " 

Mrs.  Roberts  :  "  And  aunty  ! " 

All :   "And  it's  stuck  fast." 

Roberts :  "  And  the  long  and  short  of  it  is, 
Willis,  that  we  don't  know  how  to  get  them  out, 
and  we  wish  you  would  suggest  some  way." 

Laivton  :  "  There's  been  a  great  tacit  confidence 
among  us  in  your  executive  ability  and  your  in- 
ventive genius." 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  Oh,  yes,  we  know  you  can  do 
it." 

Mrs.  Miller:  "If  you  can't,  nothing  can  save 
them." 

Campbell,  going  to  the  grating  :  "  Miller  ! " 


208  THE    SLEEPING-CAB 

Miller:  "Well?" 

Campbell :  "  Start  her  up ! " 

Miller :  "  Now,  look  here,  Campbell,  we  are  not 
going  to  stand  that ;  we've  had  enough  of  it.  I 
speak  for  the  whole  elevator.  Don't  you  suppose 
that  if  it  had  been  possible  to  start  her  up  we  "  — 

Mrs.  Curwen :  "  We  shouldn't  have  been  at  the 
moon  by  this  time." 

Campbell :  "  Well,  then,  start  her  down  !  " 

Miller:  "I  never  thought  of  that."  To  the 
Elevator  Boy :  "  Start  her  down."  To  the  people 
on  the  landing  above  :  "  Hurrah !  She's  off  ! " 

Campbell :  "  Well,  now  start  her  up  !  " 

A  joint  cry  from  the  elevator :  "  Thank  you  I 
we'll  walk  up  this  time." 

Miller :  "  Here  !  let  us  out  at  this  landing ! " 
They  are  heard  precipitately  emerging,  with  sighs 
and  groans  of  relief,  on  the  floor  below. 

Mrs.  Roberts,  devoutly :  "  0  Willis,  it  seems  like 
an  interposition  of  Providence,  your  coming  just 
at  this  moment." 

Campbell :  "  Interposition  of  common  sense ! 
These  hydraulic  elevators  weaken  sometimes,  and 
can't  go  any  farther." 

Roberts,  to  the  shipwrecked  guests,  who  arrive 


AND   OTHER   FAECES.  209 

at  the  top  of  the  stairs,  crestfallen,  spent,  and 
clinging  to  one  another  for  support :  "  Why  didn't 
you  think  of  starting  her  down,  some  of  you  ?  " 

Mrs.  Roberts,  welcoming  them  with  kisses  and 
hand-shakes :  "  I  should  have  thought  it  would 
occur  to  you  at  once." 

Miller,  goaded  to  exasperation :  "  Did  it  occur  to 
any  of  you  ?  " 

Lawton,  with  sublime  impudence  :  "  It  occurred 
to  all  of  us.  But  we  naturally  supposed  you  had 
tried  it." 

Mrs.  Miller,  taking  possession  of  her  husband : 
"  Oh,  what  a  fright  you  have  given  us  ! " 

Miller :  "  I  given  you  !  Do  you  suppose  I  did 
it  out  of  a  joke,  or  voluntarily  ?  " 

Mrs.  Roberts:  " Aunty,  I  don't  know  what  to 
say  to  you.  You  ought  to  have  been  here  long 
ago,  before  anything  happened." 

Mrs.  Crashaw :  "  Oh,  I  can  explain  everything 
in  due  season.  What  I  wish  you  to  do  now  is  to 
let  me  get  at  Willis,  and  kiss  him."  As  Campbell 
submits  to  her  embrace  :  "  You  dear,  good  fellow ! 
If  it  hadn't  been  for  your  presence  of  mind,  I 
don't  know  how  we  should  ever  have  got  out  of 
that  horrid  pen." 


210  THE   SLEEPING-CAR 

Mrs.  Curwen,  giving  him  her  hand :  "  As  it  isn't 
proper  for  me  to  kiss  you  "  — 

Campbell :  "  Well,  I  don't  know.  I  don't  wish 
to  be  too  modest." 

Mrs.  Curwen  :  "  I  think  I  shall  have  to  vote  you 
a  service  of  plate." 

Mrs.  Roberts :  "  Come  and  look  at  the  pattern  of 
mine.  And,  Willis,  as  you  are  the  true  hero  of 
the  occasion,  you  shall  take  me  in  to  dinner.  And 
I  am  not  going  to  let  anybody  go  before  you." 
She  seizes  his  arm,  and  leads  the  way  from  the 
landing  into  the  apartment.  Roberts,  Lawton,  and 
Bemis  follow  stragglingly. 

Mrs.  Miller,  getting  her  husband  to  one  side : 
"  When  she  fainted,  she  fainted  at  you,  of  course  ! 
What  did  you  do  ?  " 

Miller :  "  Who  ?  I !  Oh  ! "  After  a  moment's 
reflection :  "  She  came  to !  " 

Curwen,  getting  his  wife  aside:  "When  you 
fainted,  Caroline,  who  revived  you  ?  " 

Mrs.  Curwen :  "  Who  ?  Me  ?  Oh  !  How  should 
I  know  ?  I  was  insensible."  They  wheel  arm  in 
arm,  and  meet  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Miller  in  the  middle. 
Mrs.  Curwen  yields  precedence  with  an  ironical 
courtesy  :  "  After  you,  Mrs.  Miller  !  " 


AND   OTHER  FARCES.  211 

Mrs.  Miller,  in  a  nervous,  inimical  twitter  :  "  Oh, 
before  the  heroine  of  the  lost  elevator  ?  " 

Mrs.  Curwen,  dropping  her  husband's  arm,  and 
taking  Mrs.  Miller's :  "  Let  us  split  the  differ- 
ence." 

Mrs.  Miller :  "  Delightful !  I  shall  never  forget 
the  honor." 

Mrs.  Curwen :  "  Oh,  don't  speak  of  honors  !  Mr. 
Miller  was  so  kind  through  all  those  terrible  scenes 
in  the  elevator." 

Mrs.  Miller :  "  I've  no  doubt  you  showed  your- 
self duly  grateful."  They  pass  in,  followed  by 
their  husbands. 

Young  Mr.  Bemis,  timidly :  "  Miss  Lawton,  in 
the  elevator  you  asked  me  not  to  leave  you.  Did 
you  —  ah  —  mean  —  I  must  ask  you  ;  it  may  be 
my  only  chance  ;  if  you  meant  —  never  ?  " 

Miss  Lawton,  dropping  her  head  :  "I  —  I  —  don't 
—  know." 

Young  Mr.  Bemis :  "But  if  I  wished  never  to 
leave  you,  should  you  send  me  away  ?  " 

Miss  Laivton,  with  a  shy,  sly  upward  glance  at 
him  :  "  Not  in  the  elevator  !  " 

Young  Mr.  Bemis :  "  Oh  ! " 

Mrs.  Roberts,  re-appearing  at  the  door :  "  Why, 


212  THE  SLEEPING-CAR. 

you  good-for-nothing  young  things,  why  don't  you 
come  to  —  Oh  !  excuse  me  ! "  She  re-enters  pre- 
cipitately, followed  by  her  tardy  guests,  on  whom 
she  casts  a  backward  glance  of  sympathy.  "Oh, 
you  needn't  hurry ! " 


THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  SANTA  CRUZ 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  DATE  stamped  below. 


100m-8,'65(F6282s8)2373 


PS2026.A1  1889 


